


Out of Time

by futurelounging



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-02-28 11:46:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 45,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13270797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/futurelounging/pseuds/futurelounging
Summary: The story of Henry Beauchamp and Julia Moriston.





	1. Chapter 1

**Fraser’s Ridge, 1773**

Claire stretched her arms above her head, feeling her shoulders ache, and counted a few stray pops as she rolled her neck. She turned on her side and ran squarely into Jamie’s back.

“How on earth are you still asleep? Are you trying to challenge my position as late sleeping champion?”

Jamie reached behind and grabbed her leg, pulling her against him.

“Champion under this roof perhaps, but Brianna’s got the claim on the Ridge. She’s dedicated to holding tha’ crown, no?”

“Hmm, true enough. As long as the title remains in the family, I won’t complain.”

“Aye well, wee Jem is no’ sticking to his training from the sound of him screeching outside.”

“I’m slightly tempted to get up to look out the window to see what he’s up to, but I can’t risk getting out of bed before you. It sounds like he might be attempting to ride a goat.” 

“I’ll be sure to make mention of the goat in my prayers, Sassenach.”

The morning light was attempting to rouse them in earnest now as a beam broke through the tree branches to blind Jamie. He flipped over, disrupting the blanket arrangement and annoying his wife who had long learned to keep a tight grip on them, lest she end up uncovered at every move of his bulky frame throughout the night.

He settled again and drew her close. Jamie kissed her shoulder lightly where her shift had fallen down.

“Before ye so rudely send me off, will ye tell me a story or two? Give me something to ponder while I’m fellin’ trees today?”

“ _You_  are the storyteller. Not me. Would you like to hear the Latin names for your various muscles, in order of which ones will ache the most after chopping trees all day, or would you prefer a list of herbs that I painstakingly studied over the years only to  _not_  be able to find them anywhere around us now when they would be much appreciated?”

“Weel, ye see, both o’ those options would likely induce a return to slumber which would only benefit the trees, I’m afraid. No, I was thinking maybe ye’d have some memories from yer youth…times wi’ yer Uncle Lamb? Or perhaps any memories of yer parents. I ken ye were but a wee one when they passed, but…”

“Why are you asking this, Jamie? I mean, I’m happy to tell you, but it just seems a bit out of the blue.”

“Aye. ‘Tis I s’pose. I was just thinking about the bairns, about what they’ll remember of us. If they’d remember these times, or only those from when they’re older.”

“Hmm. I would think they’ll remember bits and pieces, at least.” She searched her memories to see if there was anything with  _her_  parents that would be more than a fragment, but was disappointed. “I really just have sensory memories of my parents, like the color of my father’s shoes, or the smell of my mother’s perfume, some songs she sang to me. But nothing where I can place myself in the moment with them.”

Claire pulled the blankets tighter around her and thought back on her youth with Uncle Lamb. The nature of their adventurous life together lent itself to moments that were grand enough, startling and unexpected enough, to solidify themselves as lifelong memories.  She could recall climbing the rocks in the Valley of the Kings, imagining what it must have looked like in the time of the pharaohs. The sand was impossible to get out of her curly hair. She remembered brushing it and pouring cups of water through it, repeatedly dragging her fingers through it at the end of the day, only to give up and accept she’d probably have sand in her hair for the rest of her life.

The early days with Uncle Lamb were fuzzier. She remembered the emotions - the anger, the sadness, the feeling of uncertainty that, for a child, feels like the ground is slipping out from under you with nothing for you to grab onto. When her uncle agreed to take her with him, it was a welcome distraction from the confusing emotions of the loss of her parents. A promise of adventure. A never-ending holiday. And in the beginning it was. Every new place a playground for her to explore, with new children waiting to show her their secret hide-outs.

As Claire got older, she pushed him to let her go off on her own more. She yearned for some independence. As she remembered that time when she was aching to find her own way, she thought of Jem. Though only a toddler, he was fiercely independent. It wouldn’t be long before he’d want to go off to find things out for himself as well. And Brianna and Roger (and her and Jamie by extension) would have to loosen the tether. It felt considerably more dangerous here than in the 1960s, or the 1930s for that matter.

“I was just thinking about when I was maybe 12 years old, when I first really pushed my uncle to let me explore a bit on my own.”

“A 12-year-old lass on yer own? I hope he didna agree to yer demands…but…I am familiar with yer stubborn ways which I imagine were around well afore ye met me.” Jamie cracked a smile and nodded to her. “Tell me then how ye worrit yer poor uncle, Sassenach.”

“Well, I worrit him a few times over the years, but the time I’m thinking of - when he first let me really be on my own - was when we were in Brittany. It was France, which, in my mind felt quite navigable and so I proposed he drop me in the village with a few coins while he went about his business and we’d meet up in a few hours. He agreed and went off and I began exploring. Just going into shops, bought a few sweets, nothing extravagant. I remember just feeling so free. Very grown-up.”

He smiled, imagining a gangly, curly-haired Claire, and nodded at her to continue. “I wandered down to the water and started looking for interesting bits along the coastline, shells I might use to make some jewelry. And I came upon this man with a small boat. I asked him if he was a fisherman and he told me, no, just a man with a boat. He said he’d taken a man out to a little island where there was a new archaeological dig underway and he’d need to go back to get the man soon. Well, I thought, this had to be Uncle Lamb. And since we were due to meet up again soon, I should go out to the island. In my mind I thought this would prove how capable I was - that I’d figured out where he was and made my way to him.”

Jamie nodded. “This does sound like something ye’d do, Sassenach; heading out wi’ a strange man wi’ no thought to the danger ye may get into.  I think I might’ve gone back for more sweets myself.”

“Oh yes, I’m sure  _you_  would. But _I_  didn’t. We got in the boat and went out to the island. I started wandering around a bit. I could see where my uncle was talking with this other man and thought I’d explore a bit before surprising him. So, I wandered and found an entrance to this gigantic mound. Like a cairn, but enormous. I saw there were some torches inside so I went in and there was this long passageway. I picked up a torch and held it up to the stones that lined the sides and they had all these intricate designs carved into them. They were really beautiful.”

Claire stopped, furrowing her brow, looking perplexed.

“What is it? Ye’ve got a strange look on yer face.”

She shook her head and loosed a breath. “No, it’s odd, I just remembered something that happened then. It never held much significance at the time, but now…I…” She took a deep breath and continued. “I remember just as I was going to touch the stones, my uncle walked into the entry and yelled for me to get out. It wasn’t just mere surprise at seeing me. I think he probably already heard I was there from the boatman, but he was just _livid_  like I’d never seen him before. He grabbed me and pulled me out and I remember him saying over and over I mustn’t ever touch them, to never touch the stones.”

Jamie sat up, staring at the crumpled blankets, then turned to Claire. “Yer uncle, ye think he kenned something of the stones? That they might…take ye?”

“God Jamie, I don’t know. I’ve never considered it until just now. I’m sure he would have known about stories, just from his work, but that he might actually believe it…I don’t know if I can reconcile what I know of him with that. He was very curious, open to talking about anything, but ultimately very rational. Still, perhaps he’d seen something to make him think it was worth some caution.”

Jamie shook his head slowly. “Weel, ye’ve told an interesting tale for me to ponder, Sassenach. I imagine yer uncle had more than a few secrets ye were never privy to, as we all do.”

“I know all your secrets, Jamie. And don’t think you can hide anything, me being a wise woman and all.”

“Ne’er would consider it.”

He rose from the bed with a groan and began dressing.

Claire looked up at the beams of the ceiling. Certainly her uncle must have just been worried and surprised. She’d deviated from the plan. Any parent would be upset. And she really shouldn’t have touched the stones - she’d learned that by then, not to touch the archaeological dig work. It was silly of her to think there was more to it than that.

She wondered though - what kind of parents would hers have been when she was that age? Would they have trusted her the way her uncle did? She tried to conjure an image of her parents’ faces. It had been so long since she’d thought of them, or tried to remember them.

Jamie buttoned his coat and turned back to Claire before opening the door. “Shall I have Mrs. Bug bring you a tray of food, milady?”

“Ha ha.”  The door snicked shut behind him and she arched her back to stretch. Light cut through the air, illuminating the dust floating about like stars, and an image suddenly flashed in her mind. She was little, standing in some kind of ruin. Tall stone walls, damp air, and a shaft of light, cutting through the darkness, outlining dust and cobwebs.

She remembered the wet, slippery rocks on the ground, how she had to grab her mother’s coat to keep from slipping. Both of her parents were there. She could remember her father’s wingtips had mud on the sides. And Uncle Lamb was there, too. She couldn’t remember where it was exactly or what they were doing there, but she could recall their voices as they talked - hushed and agitated. But only one phrase was clear in her memory. It was her Uncle Lamb who spoke. “We’re running out of time.”

_What does that mean? Running out of time to do what? What would they have been worried about?_

A thundering of tiny feet rolled through the house and Claire sighed, shaking her head at the strangeness of that last memory. She pushed the blankets back, then set her feet upon the floor to meet the day.

* * *

**Helsinki, Western Capital of the Europa Collective, 2114 C.E.**

**HealthCo Offices, Region 31 Settlement**

Julia Moriston pushed the stray curl behind her ear for the 10th time already this morning.

“I can chop those locks off any time, you know? You need only ask.”

Julia looked up from her wristlight at Evan who wiggled his eyebrows at her, a stupid grin overwhelming his face. “Come on, you know you want to.”

“No thanks, Edward Scissorhands.”

“Is this one of those old references no one else ever gets, but you still insist on using because you only care about amusing yourself?”

“You’d better check yourself before you wreck yourself.”

Evan rolled his eyes.

“Who am I going to harass all day in pod city if you’re not around? I don’t think you considered my feelings when you decided to take this promotion. You don’t even need to change into scrubs anymore, but here you are, watching me change into mine, eyes all full of regret.”

“Oh my god, Evan, you drama queen.” 

Evan feigned shock. “Is that any way to treat a man who is probably going to die alone?!”

“Oh please, you’re irresistible. But, if you’d like, I can just find whatever poor guy you last went out with and convince him that you guys drunkenly got married and he’s now responsible for honoring your memory by cleaning the junk out of your apartment.”

“So funny you are!” Evan finished pulling on his scrubs and slammed the locker door shut. 

“I am going to miss those scrubs, Ev. So flattering. Honestly, the lab coats aren’t much better. And you’re right about me not considering your feelings when I took the promotion. I’m all about the Benjamins, baby.”

“I don’t know who Benjamin is. You’re impossible.” He looked at her seriously now. “You’re going to do great in this new job, you know. You’re too smart to be wiping asses. You deserve this. I know it’s been tough since Ari, but this is going to help, not having the emotional weight of all the people out there eating you up at night. Plus, you know, guys love nerdy women in lab coats.”

“I’m 100% certain that’s bullshit. Unless you mean they love women wearing nothing under lab coats, which I’m not entirely opposed to either. Don’t you have to work at some point?”

Just then Evan’s wristlight beeped a warning. “Shit! I’m going to be late. I’m blaming you if I get docked pay. Have fun staring at screens all day!” 

She smiled sweetly and tossed a couple middle fingers his way as he raced out of the locker room and made his way to his section for this shift.

That was it. That was the last fun interaction she’d have all day. After two years working with patients in the modpods, two years of making friends, of seeing babies born, of seeing the sick and elderly take their last breaths in this place, she had earned a promotion. And that meant she’d be processing DNA tests. Cushy. No more walking through trails of filth, no more trying to calm the weary and angry souls stuck in this hell, no more desperate humans to pop up in her dreams and disrupt her sleep. She’d be sanitized and safe and quiet. And she hated it.

Her parents had been dead for five years now, both succumbing to treatable cancers within a year of each other. It was honestly a miracle that Julia’s personal health Grade wasn’t docked more once their cancers developed. But the cancers were ruled to be “heavily influenced by lifestyle choices” which, while condemning her parents and keeping them from getting treatment, kept Julia from losing her Grade. As long as there wasn’t a genetic marker, she was safe. She was already on the lowest rung for getting into nursing school. One lower and she’d be scrambling for unskilled, low-wage work for the rest of her life. So they died, and she got to go to nursing school. And the worst part was that, on their death beds, they were relieved that it didn’t affect her.

Julia threw herself into her studies in nursing school and wore her parents’ death like armor. They didn’t need to die. Not like that. The anger she felt over what happened to them, what was happening to so many others, raged like a current, propelling her forward.  She would become a nurse and she would heal and comfort and change this world in whatever small way she could.

She met Evan her second week into school and they became inseparable. He saved her in some ways. Evan was goofy and could insult with the best of them, which she valued in a friendship more than almost anything. His humor kept her afloat, especially once they began working in the refugee city, where they had to not just care for the physical well-being of these people, but also find ways to give them hope in a hopeless situation. Evan shook her out of her anger and reminded her how to laugh, reminded her that the world, despite its horrors, was also full of beauty and silliness and absurdity. 

Julia buttoned her lab coat and looked at herself in the full-length mirror and repeated the mantra her mother had taught her, whenever she was afraid of something new. “It’s a new adventure. Keep looking for the good I can do.”

* * *

**Helsinki, 2114 C.E.**

**Infinity Grade, Inc. Offices**

“Henry, this is big. Once you have Clearance, there are so many…well…important things happening that I can finally discuss with you. And having you take this step, this ensures a future for our family and for your potential family as well. Your brother’s poor choices, you know they devastated your mother and I. But you’re not like Quentin. You’ve got your feet set in this world. This isn’t some carry-on-the-family business bullshit. This is life. Survival. We can’t afford to let each other down in these times.”

Henry Beauchamp’s father, Clarence, always managed to talk to him as if he were still a teenager trying to decide his major, rather than the almost-40-year-old man he was. His dark, wavy hair showed no signs of graying or thinning, and he’d kept fit - the benefits of life amongst the upper Grades. The fact that he’d not married or had children yet was only occasionally commented upon, but Henry knew it weighed heavily on his parents’ minds. Family was everything for the upper Grades, especially those with Clearance. You needed someone to pass the baton to in order to keep the family status.

His father’s words sparked a touch of pride in his chest. He had been hard and distant the way most fathers were, full of fear that his family would be taken from him due to illness or violence or simple misfortune. In their youth he held his children at arm’s length, held his breath through The Flu Years, when the young dropped like flies, when no social or economic status was safe. He waited for a day like this, where his son could be welcomed into the next level, the safety of Clearance.

Henry straightened. “You know I’m ready. I’ve got so many ideas I want to talk about.”

“Take it easy. You’re going to be spending the next few months, maybe more, trying to absorb information. All these ideas of yours might end up being entirely irrelevant once you see what’s going on. And we’re still a few weeks out from confirmation. You’ve not seen bureaucracy until you’ve seen the Clearance process.”

His father leaned back in his chair and dragged his finger across the glass of his desk and looked at it as if he could see the invisible dust that was certainly not accumulating in his immaculate office.

“There can be no errors at this point, Henry. Go over your files. Make sure nothing is missing. Medical tests, DNA, everything has to be solid. They will use any excuse to toss us out to make room for someone else. I’m getting old and you not having a family…well, they’re strikes against us. We need to be that much better. You not getting this is an unacceptable outcome. It would destroy us. Kill us. You understand that, don’t you?”

Henry nodded and felt a flutter in his chest, a pang of fear that somehow he would screw this up, even though he knew,  _he knew_ , everything was in order.

“I’ll check today. See you in the morning.”

* * *

**Helsinki, 2114 C.E.**

**Infinity Apartments**

He pulled his wristlight up as he entered the elevator to his apartment and spoke into it, “Ready all files related to Clearance for review”. The elevator was empty and looking out over the glass-encased plaza of the Ministry offices, he felt like a vise was squeezing his heart. In a few weeks he would be living an entirely different life. The friends he had now would no longer be a part of it. They couldn’t. It wasn’t the law, but he’d be looked on with suspicion, and would likely lose out on opportunities if he was seen with lower Grades.

But, having Clearance meant he would have a say in the future of this world and that sacrifice would be worth it. There were so many people suffering needlessly. So many people forgotten, pushed to the edges of civilization. There was still time to right the ship and he was finally being given a chance to do something.

The door to his apartment clicked behind him as he dropped his bag on the floor. The files displayed on screens raised from the edges of the dining room table and he sat down to begin scanning them, looking for empty forms, missing entries, any anomalies. He was starting to go cross-eyed after half an hour of swiping through forms.

“Where’s the DNA test? Find DNA test.”

_DNA test file not found._

“That’s not possible. Search for DNA test.”

_DNA test file not found._

“What the hell?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn the history of the Europa Collective. Julia reunites with her friend, Quentin and learns some interesting things about what he's been doing lately. Henry is not in a good place.

In 2072, the Europa Collective was formed. Governments had been splitting apart at the seams for many years prior, unable to sustain themselves as far-right factions sought to destabilize and ultimately destroy social safety nets. With populations overwhelmed by fears over terrorism, inaccessible health care, and campaigns of misinformation, corporations effectively merged with weakened governments and slowly privatized government services from the inside. The corporate-government hybrids formed as the Europa Collective and established East and West Ministry headquarters.

In 2084, two major events occurred that lead to the adoption of mandatory DNA testing. First was a worldwide flu epidemic. Multiple new variations of flu strains spread rapidly and the government health services, having been gutted to streamline costs, were unprepared to control their spread. The young, the elderly, and those with compromised immune systems stood very little chance and the world began to understand what a pandemic could really do.  Health care systems were crushed under the weight of the crisis, and in turn, economic systems began to spiral toward mass instability.

The second event was The Great Human Migration. Years of gradual climate change had wreaked havoc on southern climes, but that year also saw massive natural disasters that left nations entirely uninhabitable. With no homes or hope, millions of refugees traveled north. The movement of so many people into crowded, unsanitary conditions, only worsened the spread of the diseases. Millions fled the devastated areas and thirty years later, many of those had still found no permanent home. Most were still barred from settling anywhere and were left to live, if they were lucky, in huge refugee camps on the outskirts of the northern cities.

The development of ModPods - small, portable, living structures with basic utility hookups - enabled the permanent establishment of the refugee cities. A few lucky refugees would be chosen for citizenship trials in the northern cities, but the selection process was long and the standards almost impossible to meet.

The DNA testing was borne from the wave of fear that took over every country that was flooded with the refugees. It didn’t matter that the DNA testing wouldn’t have stopped a pandemic. It was justification enough in a climate of fear. The flu, the destroyed lands, the storms, the refugees, fear.

If a DNA test showed a certain probability of developing aggressive cancers, or degenerative muscle diseases, or a thousand other things, the person’s record was marked. There were Grades tied to each individual’s files, determining just how much of a drain a person was likely to be on society’s coffers during their life. The less trouble a person was expected to be, the higher their Grade. Higher Grades meant higher level positions, access to more education, access to immediate and high-quality health care. If they were going to eventually be a burden, why invest in them? 

If these sorts of changes were established without subterfuge, there would have been anarchy, total societal destruction. And the men in charge knew that. So, they created committees, obfuscated intent, buried provisions to fund the changes in bills, and used the general chaos of the time to implement a system that would eventually reshape the entire world.

People never knew how the Grades were affecting every aspect of their lives. It merely felt like their luck was running out. They didn’t get that promotion. Understandable. Their offer on that home wasn’t accepted. Reasonable, since they didn’t get that promotion. It almost felt like the natural extension of a widening gap between the haves and have-nots that everyone knew already existed. And once a new generation was brought up under it, it couldn’t have been easier to slowly bring it into the light. When you grow up knowing your Grade, it seems like that’s just how the world works. And for the older generations who balked at this, who among them would risk their entire livelihood, their family’s lives, to question it?

* * *

**Helsinki**

**Leena’s Bar**

“Seventy-five percent of these tests are the Lowest Grades. I had no idea. We’re just going to write off all these people. Say there is no hope because of the possibility they might need help down the line.”

Julia rested her head in her hands. After a few weeks working in the DNA lab she somehow felt more exhausted than she had running the pods. The emotional weight was sapping her strength.

“How am I going to keep doing this?”

Evan drained his glass and leaned back in the chair, staring at the bar’s ceiling.

“You’re going to keep doing this because this is what we do. Because the alternatives are what? You’re not getting into a Ministry hospital, not without family connections or a higher Grade. And even if you did get into one of them, you’d be healing the assholes who are causing this mess in the first place. I know it sucks. I know you wanted to make this shitty world better and this feels like a step back from doing that.”

“I just feel like what little help I could provide before, what little healing I could do, has been taken from me and now I’m part of some death squad. I’m giving these people their time and means of death. How much do you have to hate someone to do that to them? To curse them with that knowledge? These people don’t deserve it.”

Just then her wristlight blinked. The message lifted the strain from her face and she cracked her first smile of the night.

“It’s Q! He must be back from the U.K.”

“Well, invite his old ass over here so we can get the latest scoop on the world of dirt.”

Two hours and a table-full of empty glasses later, Julia rubbed the tears from her cheeks, her face aching from laughter. “Oh, god. You need to write a book about this.”

“And what shall I call it, my dear? ‘That Time I Got Stuck in a Cave with a Flatulent Monkey and Other Adventures’?”

“I think you could just call it ‘Flatulent Monkeys’ and it would sell in the dozens.”

Quentin threw his head back and laughed. “You are officially hired as my agent, Julia.”

They were an unlikely gang on the surface. Quentin was a 50-year-old eccentric archaeologist who’d somehow managed to carve out an interesting life despite coming from a family firmly entrenched in the inner workings of the Ministry. He’d always gotten along with his mother, but had a volatile relationship with his father. His father, Clarence, had pushed for Quentin to take a job with him within the Ministry. He’d tried to impart to Quentin just how important it would be to have that safety, but Quentin asked too many questions and most of their interactions ended with frustration and yelling. So, after Quentin become entrenched in academia and had fallen in love with archaeology, he rejected the path to Clearance and walked away. And he did so right when everyone else was clamoring for a place among the High Grades.

Q was relentlessly curious which, he always said, was a death sentence amongst the bourgeoisie. He remained close to his only sibling, Henry, who was a dreamer like him, but not prone to wandering off paths quite so much. That he became fast friends with a couple of young, mid-Grade nurses who worked in a refugee camp is perhaps one of the more ordinary aspects of Quentin’s life.

Evan’s roommate briefly dated Quentin a few years back, which is how they all met, but while that relationship didn’t last long, Evan, Julia, and Quentin had formed a lasting bond. The three of them made each other laugh until they cried, until their stomachs hurt, and that was no small gift. Q had instantly fallen for Julia’s quick and sharp wit, but their shared obsession with 20th and 21st century pop culture was where they really clicked. He’d never met someone who could keep up with him in that regard and they relished annoying everyone with their incomprehensible references.

“So, tell me about this new position. Far cry from administering shots and bandaging wounds, it sounds.”

Julia sighed. “Way to be a wet blanket, Q.”

She took a long drink of water at the reminder of her job - a fairly good reason to sober up.

“It’s fine. I miss the pods. I miss people. But I’ll get used to it, I’m sure.”

“‘Sure’ is maybe not the word. But true, this will be a test for you. Just remember it doesn’t end here. You have much life ahead of you. I’m sure you’ll have some adventures.”

She smiled. “Maybe I’ll run away with you. Have some smelly cave monkey adventures.”

“Please tell me that’s not a euphemism,” Evan snorted.

“So, you run the DNA tests through the magical computers. Do you see the results? Get to tell people?”

She traced a finger through the condensation on her glass. “Yeah, I do. That’s the worst part. And you know, we don’t really have any identification on half of these people. Names are uncertain. We’ve got blood types, some other markers, but I’m basically saying, ‘Hello, pregnant woman in Pod #5720. You’re probably going to get breast cancer, but maybe not, who knows? Enjoy the rest of your life in this pod. Okay, good talk. See you around.’ I haven’t figured out a good way to say that yet.”

“No, I don’t believe there is a good way to say that.”

That seemed as good a time as any to call it a night, so the three of them headed out into the crisp evening air. Evan veered off toward his apartment, saluting Quentin and Julia as he stumbled backward. Julia tucked her arm inside Quentin’s and huddled close to keep warm. “Care to walk me home?” Tiny snowflakes had begun drifting down, few and far between, harbingers of the cold season ahead.

“Love to, of course. But let’s walk along the canal a bit, shall we? I forget how lovely it is at night.”

Julia squeezed his arm. “So, you’ve said very little about what you’ve actually been up to lately, which makes me think it must be awfully interesting if you’re worried about Evan hearing anything.” 

Quentin chuckled and wrapped his hand over hers. “Hm. Well, I can’t hide anything from you, can I? You’re far too clever, my dear.”

They walked in silence until he guided her to a bench on the edge of the canal, the streetlight behind them casting their shadows over the water. The walkways were completely silent at this hour and the two of them took a moment to enjoy it, the eerie silence of the city at night.

In hushed tones, he said, “This really is something you cannot speak of to anyone.” Julia nodded and waited for him to continue.

“I found some books, old journals, when we were in the north - Scotland, actually. They were mostly in rough shape. But one had been wrapped in a good deal of plastic, so it seems someone wanted to preserve it. It was a wild read, almost like the ramblings of someone gone a bit in the head. Written in the 1960s, so who knows, right? It talked about standing stones, like monoliths, giant stones set up thousands of years ago. And it mentioned travelers. That some people possessed the ability to travel -  _through time_  - by performing a ritual at certain times of the year at these particular stones. Apparently, you need gemstones to safely go through. It was rather complex. Whoever wrote this had been studying it for a long time.”

“Okay then, time travel. Not your everyday archaeological finding, I suppose.”

“Certainly not. Many of the pages were too ruined to make out, but I puzzled out the general area where these stones might be and decided to investigate. You know I can’t resist a little adventure.” 

Julia hummed and turned to face him. “Why did you latch onto this journal? I mean, people back then believed all sorts of crazy things, didn’t they?”

“Well, relatively, but really by that time, this sort of talk would have been considered a bit batty, too. I don’t know. Curiosity. Boredom. You know me. So I went out looking for these stones, and I found them. They’re in the wilds, but only a couple miles from a military base, so I was a bit wary of wandering. Still, no one paid me any mind. They were up on a hill, just off a road. Beautiful area.” He shook his head, like he was trying to clear his mind.   

“Julia…it was so strange. I don’t know if reading that journal got a bunch of ideas in my head and my mind was playing tricks or what, but walking up that hill, I was overwhelmed by this noise, just as it was described in the journal. This sort of buzzing, but like a cacophony of voices, a horrible discordant sound inside my head. And the worst part was my body kept propelling me closer. I felt as if I was in a trance. I ended up dropping to the ground about a meter away from the first stone and crawled back down. Scared the hell out of me, frankly.”

Julia stared at the lights shimmering in the water, and shook her head slightly. “Q, I don’t…”

“No need to tell me I’m nuts. I know. I’ve not told anyone else. Don’t think I will. You are the sole recipient of my absurdities. But…I don’t know. I’m just curious what would happen. It certainly felt like something was amiss near them, and you know I’m not the superstitious type. But maybe it’s real. And if it’s real there, then there are probably other places, other stones as well. God, it’s insanity. I know.”

“Let’s say it works - this traveling through stones business. Where would it take you?”

“Backward in time, I think, based on the journal. I have to say, the way things are going right now, the past seems like an attractive place. God, what I wouldn’t give to be able to see the old Egyptian pyramids and temples, Persian ruins, the Greek cities. To go back to the early twentieth century when archaeologists were discovering all these incredible ancient sites. So much of it’s now been destroyed or flooded.”

Quentin leaned forward, his arms braced on his thighs.

“You’re not allowed to leave without me,” she whispered as she rested her head on his back.

* * *

**Helsinki**

**Infinity Apartments**

Henry stood in the dark of his apartment, resting his forehead against the glass doors overlooking the canal. It was still outside, save for some workers heading home from a late shift and he could faintly make out the silhouette of a couple sitting on a bench.

Unexpected tears welled in his eyes as he felt the sudden and crushing weight of loneliness.  He wished for nothing more than someone to tell him it would be fine. He wished to have someone lean against him on a bench by the canal in the middle of the night. To feel the solid presence warming his side, an assurance that he was not alone. How had he made it 40 years with no lasting relationships, as if his life carried no weight?

He was not foolish enough to hope for children, despite his father’s certainty.

The pandemics that wiped out so many young people in the last 30 years left one last lingering wound. The treatments that were developed - too little and too late - also left sterile almost half of those who received them.

The stable areas of the world were now made up of dwindling populations terrified of newcomers. This imbalance hung in the sky before him and he longed to reach out, to steady the pendulum that had been swinging too wildly for too long now. He had to get Clearance.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry's feeling hopeless about his situation, but his brother introduces him to Julia, who just happens to work in a DNA lab. She might just be the only one who can help him.

**Helsinki**

**Infinity Grade, Inc. Offices**

“Have you ever looked at your DNA test?” Henry had been chatting with Elias for an hour now, trying to figure out how to casually bring this up without it seeming too incongruous. He was friends with him, but also acutely aware that Elias outranked him.

Elias ran his hands through his hair for the fiftieth time in the last hour, drawing it higher each time, giving him a frazzled professor look. “Seriously? Of course. I mean, I haven’t looked in twenty years, but when I first got the results, you’re damn right I looked. Had to find out what sort of brain-eating disease would take me out eventually.”

“And what’s the lucky disease to be then?”

“Please, you think I’d have this cushy office here if I was anything but immortal? No, I’m probably going to die from getting run over by a zamboni. Nothing as boring as disease. What about you? What’s taking you out? Your parents seem happy and healthy.” 

Henry tried to ignore the sweat beginning to soak through his shirt. He was well aware of his glass face and was using all of his mental concentration to seem as relaxed as possible. “Oh, nothing much of note on mine. I’ll probably have to step in front of a train to put my old carcass out of its misery.”

“Don’t do it when I’m on the train, please. I hate being late for work.” 

“Oh, absolutely not. We’ll coordinate schedules.”

Elias flipped through some messages on his wristlight, rolling his eyes and muttering something about not even wanting a dog in the first place. Henry decided he’d need to just jump into the fire if he was going to get anywhere.

“Have you ever heard of someone  _not_  having a DNA test? Could that even happen?”

Elias looked at him like he’d sprouted a new head. “Uh, yeah, there are tons of people without tests. They’re wasting away in refugee pods. Or living in the old underground lines. I mean, you don’t get a job without one. You don’t get  _anything_  without one.” 

Henry knew. He knew before Elias said anything that he was wasting his breath, and wasting precious time. The simple fact was, he  _did_ have a DNA test at one point.  _He had to have._ He doesn’t remember ever looking at it, but he also would not have cared a whole lot as a young man, coming from a family with deep Collective ties. Moving up was a given. Doors had been opened for him as he was pulled along in his father’s wake. But that was before the Clearance process. Now, he would need to prove himself for the first time, stand on his own to some degree. Henry stood abruptly, suddenly feeling himself on the verge of a panic attack. He needed to get the hell out of this office. He bee-lined to the door, nearly taking out a recycling bin in the process.

“Hey! You should come out with Leo and I tonight,” Elias shouted after him. Henry felt like everyone was watching him, like somehow the way he walked was enough to arouse suspicion. He strode quickly down the hall to his office and closed the door, collapsing into his chair. He reflexively hit the button on his desk for the monitor to pop up. A series of new messages required his attention, so he accepted two meeting requests, and froze when he saw the next message:

> From: Ava Dornan
> 
> Subject: Clearance Processing Phase 1
> 
> Henry, I’m pleased to be working with you as your Clearance Processing Coordinator.  Our first order of business is to submit documentation as that will require three weeks for analysis and approval. After we’ve done that, we can begin working on psych testing and interview prep. I’m more than happy to answer any questions you may have along the way. And please know that I am here to make this a pleasant experience for you. I’ve worked with your father for a number of years and he assures me you are a stellar prospect.
> 
>  I would like to meet by next Tuesday so we have time to get everything in order before Friday’s submission deadline.
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> Ava

Three days. He had three days to get a DNA test into his records.

One could not envision a more clandestine enterprise than Clearance. It was truly a wolf in sheep’s clothing - the descendant of thousands of years of secretive groups, from Freemasons to Knight’s Templar to the Illuminati. The genius of Clearance was how it was able to thrive openly by wearing the mask of government and business. Trade secrets and national security were perfectly acceptable terms for secretly running the world without oversight.

Henry folded his arms on his desk and rested his head on them, racking his brain for a way out of this. If he went to get a new DNA test, it might not even be ready by Tuesday, and even if it were, it would be time-stamped. Everyone got DNA tests when they turned 18, earlier if you needed a job. The failure to produce one would instantly set off alarms. Fraud was not unusual amongst those attempting Clearance and their systems had been designed with increasingly sophisticated algorithms to detect these sorts of anomalies. A new DNA test most likely indicates a fraudulent DNA test. Game over. And he had no way to prove he’d ever had one.

One last option. He pulled up his personnel file. His current position would need to have most of this documentation as well.  _If one exists, it’s here._  

> Work History
> 
> Habitation History
> 
> Education History
> 
> Medical Expenditure History
> 
> Birth Certificate
> 
> Europa Collective ID Registration
> 
> Immunizations

_Fuck._

* * *

**HealthCo Offices, Region 31 Settlement**

Julia stretched her arms above her head, arching her back as her neck popped in four different places.  Half an hour left before she could run away from this place, preferably straight to Leena’s for greasy food and strong drinks. Her wristlight flashed twice.

> Q: Darling, would you be so kind as to save a seat for me at Leena’s? I’ve got to finish writing up this presentation or it will haunt me all weekend. But I WILL SEE YOU.

Perfect. Julia tried not to stare at the clock.

* * *

**Infinity Grade, Inc. Offices**

As the streetlights turned on, Henry realized he’d been staring out his window for at least an hour. He was drained. Every scenario he could imagine ended badly for him, if not his family as well. In a rare outburst, he kicked the recycling bin, sending it rolling across his office floor, scattering bits of refuse.

His wristlight blinked.

> Q: It’s been too long, brother. Indulge me and join me for drinks tonight. I need to hear all the boring details of your life.
> 
> H: Tonight’s not good. Soon, though.
> 
> Q: Oh sorry, did you think I was asking when I could stop by to discuss life insurance policies?
> 
> H: Well, that I’d make time for.
> 
> Q: See…you  _do_  want to play. I’ll swing by in an hour. Assuming I’m done with work by then.
> 
> H: I’m really not in a great headspace tonight.
> 
> Q: Which is why I’m proposing drinks and brother time. Perfect remedy.
> 
> H: Noooooo.
> 
> Q: I’ll take that as a maybe.
> 
> H: I won’t go.
> 
> Q: See you soon! 

* * *

**Leena’s Bar**

Julia covered her mouth with her hands, shoulders shaking with laughter. “Oh no, seriously?”

“All over my shoes. I honestly considered amputating my feet so I wouldn’t have to touch it. I ended up kicking my shoes off, but then I stepped in some more of it WITH MY SOCKS and you know how much I hate it when my socks get wet. I went to the locker room and sat in a fetal position in the scalding shower for like thirty minutes until someone yelled at me for hogging all the hot water.” 

“Well, at least you didn’t overreact.”

Evan speared the cherry in his Old Fashioned and plopped it in his mouth. “Honestly, I feel bad for you in your new job because no one rotten-fish-pukes all over you on the regular. You have no good story fodder.”

“It’s my cross to bear.”

Julia’s wristlight lit up. “You’d better be groveling, Q.”

> Q: Done! Finally! Any chance you can scrounge up room for one more? I’m dragging my brother, Henry, along as he is woefully under-socialized. He’s claiming he “won’t go”, but I have my ways. See you in 10.

“Hey Evan, go ask that lady if we can have her chair. Q’s bringing his brother apparently.”

“Oooh, Henry? I’ve heard he is…” Evan waggled his eyebrows.

“A cartoon rabbit?”

“No. He’s a looker, as the kids say. So, if he’s gay, I get him. If he’s a boring straight guy, you can have your way with him. Deal?”

“Does he get a say in this or…?”

Sixth eye roll of the night from Evan. Not that she was keeping score.

Quentin weaved through the tables with his brother close behind. Henry was a few inches taller than Quentin with a strong jawline and just a hint of crow’s feet around his eyes. He _was_  a looker, if she was being honest with herself. He reminded her of the movie stars from the early days, back when they still used black and white film. She’d watched some with Quentin one weekend when she was still in nursing school and loved the rapid-fire banter. Henry could have fit right in back then. He had a classic look to him. Timeless.

Quentin took the seat nearest Evan, and Henry sat between his brother and Julia. A round of hello-nice-to-meet-yous were followed by another round of drinks and they soon settled in for a couple hours of casual conversation.

The bar had begun to quiet with the late hour. Julia pushed the mostly empty whisky glass to the center of the table and cradled a glass of water. “So, Henry, you must be excited about Clearance. That’s a life-changer, I’ve heard.”

His smile was tight, bordering on a grimace. “I would like for it to be a life-changer. That’s my hope. I have ideas for restructuring health services to make it easier for people to ascend Grades with lifestyle alterations and diet alterations, things that can overcome genetic deficits. I know it’ll be a hard sell, but I don’t…I don’t think the current system serves people as well as it could.”

Quentin slapped Henry on the back. “You do realize you don’t have to give interview answers with us, right? You can assume some sort of human-like communication.”

Julia glanced at Henry, as he laughed at himself, his head bent forward. There was a sadness about him, hovering around his edges.  _What could someone like him have to be sad about?_  She thought about what he’d said, about wanting to change the health services. She hadn’t imagined there were Clearance-level people who wanted anything other than to line their own pockets and find new ways to disempower the proletariat. Yet here he was, eager to get inside that machine to try to fix it.

As the night wore on, she couldn’t help comparing Henry to Quentin. Where Quentin was quick to pounce on witty banter and took delight in finding the right turn of phrase, Henry waited in the wings, honing his responses until he was ready to deliver them with a sincerity and poeticism that felt unexpected. His wit posed as an innocent passer-by who delivers a wink just as he saunters by you, leaving you to stumble and crane your neck.

“Let’s go somewhere to dance.”

Quentin leapt on Evan’s suggestion. Henry pushed his chair back and rubbed at his face, blinking away the whisky’s haze.

“I need some fresh air. I think I’ll walk for a bit and head home. It was a pleasure to meet you Evan.”

He then turned to Julia and held his hand out, a warm, crooked smile growing on his flushed face. She took it and squeezed gently, noting the softness of his skin, how his thumb lazily brushed back and forth on the back of her hand. “Lovely to meet you, Julia. Will you join in the rug-cutting? Are you a dancer?” He hadn’t let go of her hand. And she was having a hard time forming words.

“I could go for some fresh air, too. Shall we imbibe together?”

He flashed her a wide smile and they stood together, grabbing their coats from the backs of their chairs, and without another word, walked right out of Leena’s into the cool night air.

Evan doubled over the table, wheezing with laughter. “Did you just accidentally hook up your brother with Julia?”

“It appears so. And if you were a real friend, you’d accidentally hook me up with someone right now so I’m not stuck dancing with you all night.”

* * *

Henry shoved his hands into his pockets to warm them, and jutted his elbow out toward her, offering his arm should she want it.  It was a such an old-fashioned thing to do. Julia had begun cataloging Henry’s pros and cons subconsciously not long after he sat beside her at Leena’s. One more for the pro column. 

When her hand tightened around his arm, Henry’s senses narrowed to that point of touch. He imagined tendrils from a vine growing from her fingers, wrapping around his arm and over his shoulder until it grew around his entire body. Her nearness enveloped him. This walk felt reckless and dangerous, his rational brain having worn itself out long ago.

“I take it you don’t have to work tomorrow. Don’t most nurses work odd shifts? Middle-of-the-night, that sort of thing?”

“Mmm, there’s a lot of that initially, but it gets better as you move up the ranks. I’m actually not really working as a nurse right now. I just got promoted into the DNA labs for the camp, so I just work with samples and testing and then deliver results to the residents. Not nearly as glamorous as packing open wounds or examining sores.”

 

All memories start out as short term memories.

_She says she works in a DNA lab._

Then comes the sensory memory.

_Her fingers are wrapped around my arm and the curls of her hair keep blowing against my cheek and she smells like rosemary and whisky._

Next the memories are encoded with meaning.

_How has the universe conspired to bring me to this moment, with this woman, at this time of my life?_

And if that meaning carries great enough significance, it will harness these elements of memory and tie them together to live as a long term memory.

_Do you want to hear the story of the night I met your mother?_

“You work in a DNA lab?”

“Mm-hm. Yes.”

He spun himself in front of her, gripping her arms. At her look of alarm he let go and offered an apologetic half-smile.

“I would very much like to talk to you a bit more about your work, if that’s okay with you.”

Her eyebrows rose a considerable distance and she slowly confirmed, “You want to talk about my job working in a DNA lab…on a beautiful night while we’re both inebriated?”

Despite his heart pounding in his chest at the sudden hope that she might be the answer to his problems, he couldn’t help but be amused by her. The way she made everything sound a bit sillier than it was. The way she looked at him like he was the most absurd human she’d ever met.

“Maybe you’re not used to men sweeping you off your feet with these sorts of grand gestures, but I assure you, this is just one of many romantic adventures I’ve got planned.”

“Is that what this is? A romantic adventure?”

She’d caught him, tongue loosened with drink, admitting what you’re not supposed to admit when you’ve just met someone. There is a thrill in pursuit. And Henry had experienced it many times before, but this was not merely pursuit. The engine churning inside him at this moment was fueled by recognition. That moment when you recognize in another person something essential to your own self, like they hold a place inside them where only you fit. And you’re holding a place for them inside you.

“I’m two blocks this way. Come with me. Just to talk.”

She looked him in the eyes with a disarming clarity, like she could see right through any falsehoods he might attempt. She held his gaze for a good deal longer than two near-strangers ever should, and then smiled and nodded her head once. Julia then looped her arm through Henry’s and began the walk to his apartment.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry tells Julia about his problem with the missing DNA file and she has to decide whether or not she'll risk her job to help him.

**Helsinki**

**Infinity Apartments**

“Satie? You  _are_  trying to seduce me. I knew it.”

Henry smiled at her from the kitchen, steam from the kettle clouding his face as he poured the tea. “This music has never worked before, I have to admit. But I knew, when I met you, I thought  _this woman will have no defense against melancholy piano_.”

Julia tucked her legs under her, wedging her toes between the cushions of Henry’s suede sectional. He handed her a steaming mug of chamomile tea and sat beside her, his back rigid, knees pressed together.

“I don’t think I can talk with this music on. I just want to listen to it and stare out the window.”

“Do you want me to turn it off?”

“No.”

She took a tentative sip, knowing she’d scald her tongue. Setting her cup down on the glass-topped coffee table, she turned her head and fixed her eyes on him. He was nervous, his gaze held by the painting on the wall opposite them. A small boat atop an enormous wave in an endless ocean, with a dot of a man clinging to the sides. She noted an uncomfortable bend to Henry’s shoulders and his fingers endlessly moving, picking at the seam in the cushion.

Henry felt something akin to terror, sitting on the sofa with her looking at him, just a few feet away. He knew almost nothing about her.  _What does she love? What frightens her?_ Hanging by a thread, he had no choice but to trust her.

“What’s on your mind, Henry? Or did you just bring me here to see how quickly quiet music and tea would make me fall asleep?”

He willed himself to settle back into the sofa. This was not going to be easy. He could not afford her mistrust or uncertainty. And beneath this worry was a greater one - that she would only see him trying to use her, seizing the opportunity of her access to the lab. That he would seem to have schemed to be here with her now. And there was truth to it. He needed her help. He had left his office tonight devastated and certain of his demise.  _God, the words were so overwrought_. But he gave in to his brother’s demands for a night out because he simply did not have the mental strength to push back any more.

 _I liked you before I knew where you worked, Julia._  He tried to will that thought into her mind before he continued. He was taken with her upon first sight. That is not unusual, though. The world is teeming with beautiful creatures. No, it was her way of being. The way she leaned forward in her seat, always on the edge of laughing, hanging on words and eager to banter. The way she drew him in to the conversation despite his wariness. She walked into his space and let her breath blow away the fog, utterly unconcerned that he’d been hiding in it. She would not accept anything short of the truth.

“I won’t try to dance around this. I don’t think you’d appreciate it, certainly not at this hour. I think you may be able to help me with something very important. I don’t know for sure, and I wouldn’t  _expect_  you to help even. But I do think you may be my only hope.”

Julia eyed him curiously. “Hmmm….no, that was definitely some form of dancing around it. Look, I won’t tease, okay? Whatever you need to talk to me about, just do it. Tell me the problem.”

Henry turned his body to face her, resting his arm over the back of the cushion. He concentrated on the tiny crease between her brows as she leaned toward him. “I have a meeting on Tuesday to begin the process of obtaining Clearance. The person assisting me will be going through my files to ensure everything is in order. Even one little thing wrong can mean instant rejection. So, I went through my files and found I was missing one. I don’t have a DNA test file.”

“What do you mean ‘don’t have?’”

“It’s just not there. File not found. I don’t remember taking the DNA test or even seeing results, but I don’t think that means I never had one. I  _had_  to have had one. The bottom line is, it will set off huge red flags if I don’t have a test result. They’ll question everything else twice as much and the whole process will likely fall apart. They don’t waste time with people who aren’t prepared.”

Julia’s expression remained neutral, the little crease in her brow smoothing slightly. She took a drink of her tea and kept the mug between her hands. “Well, that does sound like a problem. But…I don’t mean this facetiously…what happens if you don’t get Clearance? Would it really be that devastating?”

This was the question, the one it would all really hinge on.  _How do I convince her to risk her status, her job, her future, for me? Over something she, herself, could never have._

“It’s not like missing out on a job you wanted. This…if I fail in this way, with this suggestion of fraud or uncertainty, they could strip everything from me. I’d be considered too much of a risk to stay in my current position. Worse still, I think they’d strip my father of his as well. I think he’d lose Clearance, which at his age means losing everything. It’s hard to explain if you’re not in this world, but everything is shrouded in suspicion and deception at this level to begin with. The mere suggestion that something might produce a crack in the foundation is met with swift and brutal extraction.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “God, I hate how this must sound. That I’m worried about losing my fancy office and apartment or some bullshit. It’s not….”

He took a calming breath. She sat completely focused on him, like she had on their walk, like she was stripping away anything extraneous and leaving only truth for her examination.

He spoke again, softly now. “I  _hate_  the Grades, Julia. I hate what they’ve done to the world. I hate that you work in a camp of people who will live essentially as prisoners there until they die, and that the people in charge have decided that is acceptable. I hate that millions of people in lower Grades have no assurance that, should they fall ill, any hospital will open its doors to them. I  _need_  to change things. Getting Clearance - that’s my chance. That’s the only way. I need to get inside and do whatever I can.”

He didn’t know about her parents, how they’d died just like he described, with no hospital willing to take them. She hated him for a moment. Hated that he would never know that feeling. And she wanted to shake him, tell him that no one in their right mind would think one person could affect any meaningful change. Didn’t he know that he’d be met with resistance at every turn? But before she could say any of this, he delivered the killing blow.

“You did that. Walked into that city of pods every day for years and did whatever you could. You held their hands and cleaned them and gave them something beautiful and hopeful, just by being there. I don’t want another day of my life to feel like it’s been wasted. I want to die knowing I tried.”

His eyes were glistening with unshed tears and she had to look away or let loose a sob herself. Julia stood up from the sofa abruptly. “I need to use your bathroom.”

She let her hands sit under the warm water, let it flow over her wrists, soothing her. Julia had felt a panic building in her chest as he spoke, a fear crawling over her skin. It was an overwhelming feeling that her life had suddenly crested a hill and was rolling down the other side, picking up speed, and she had no idea where she was headed.

She could say “no” and he would politely answer “of course, don’t worry about it” and they would part with no plans to see each other again. There was nothing stopping her from doing that.

She looked around his bathroom, noting the little intimate details of his existence. A towel, hastily thrown over the bar. An old framed photograph of a family of four sitting in a sauna.  _That must be his family. God, Q was a nerd then, too._ A shaving kit…with a straight razor.  _Who in the world uses a straight razor?_

She turned back to the mirror, noting the darkness under her eyes. She straightened and spoke quietly to her reflection. “It’s a new adventure. Keep looking for the good I can do.”

She walked out into the dimmed lights to find him standing at the glass doors, looking out at the canal, the music still drifting through the room.

“I can walk you home.”

She met his reflection in the glass. “Meet me tomorrow morning at 9 at the south entrance to the Region 31 HealthCo office. But don’t go inside the gate. Stay back away from the building. I’ll find you and get you in without cameras seeing you. Try to wear dark clothing, a dark hat. It’s risky to bring you in, but I don’t want to screw up transporting the samples.”

“Will anyone else be in the building?”

“Yes. There are people working all the time, but the labs will be quiet. If anyone sees me I can just say I forgot something. But I doubt anyone will care.”

Henry turned to her now, his face a tapestry of emotion. He spoke softly. “Thank you, Julia.”

“Walk me home.”

* * *

**Helsinki**

**DNA Test Lab, HealthCo Offices**

“That woman looked right at me.” Henry cracked the door open and squinted through the gap to survey the hallway.

“You know what would catch my attention? Some guy nervously peeking out a door.” He let the door slip shut and offered an apologetic shrug. Julia pulled on her latex gloves. “She’s janitorial staff. They see everything, but they’re the last ones who’d risk their jobs to say anything. I would guess she thinks I’m sneaking my boyfriend in here or something. Although I can’t imagine what sort of kink you’d need to want to bring your boyfriend here.”

“How can you be joking right now? I’m about ready to pass out.”

Julia began pulling out trays and materials for sample gathering. “Just trying to mask my nerves with jokes. And maybe calm you down a little in the process.”

“Are you sure you can alter the timestamp?”

“How about let’s deal with this one step at a time. Come over here so I can swab and stab you.”

The processing time was only a few hours and, rather than risk discovery coming and going, Henry and Julia opted to stay in the lab, eating from a selection of items they were able to scrounge from their respective apartments. They chatted about their youth, their education _(Dog-walker, really? Is that an actual job? - Shut up, yes. It can be.)_ , their favorite places to get Karelian pies  _(Nylund? Theirs are too small.)_ , and who the most overrated 21st century authors were  _(Cormac McCarthy, overrated? You’re a monster. - Perhaps, but I can’t deal with the lack of punctuation. I feel like he’s just too lazy to bother with it. Maybe he thought the editor would do it for him.)_.

Julia brushed the crumbs from their lunch off the table into her hand and deposited them in the waste bin, then turned to Henry. “At the risk of making this awkward, how are you not married or in a relationship with someone?”

Henry’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at her candid inquiry. He fidgeted with the zipper on his sweater - a nervous tic she’d noticed - and looked at her seriously. “Well, okay. I’ll tell you my story, but you have to promise to tell yours, too.”

She looked away, staring at her reflection in the glass door of a supply cabinet and did not speak for a few seconds. “Deal.”

“I was with someone for a year and a half. That was the longest. Otherwise it’s been mostly casual situations. This sounds bad. I’m completely regretting answering this already.” Henry shook his head, embarrassed.

Her laugh bubbled just to the surface before subsiding. “Why do you think you never found someone? What were these relationships missing?”

“Missing? I guess…passion? No, that’s not the right word. I just…I didn’t feel this overwhelming desire to share everything, to be close to them. It was always just a little too…rational. Like I was always analyzing the relationship and saying basically, ‘logically, we make a good couple, so we should be together.’ But my heart wasn’t in it. Then I’d call it off because it felt unfair, like I was keeping them from finding someone who would love them the way they deserved.”

“Do you think you held back from them?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you give yourself to these women? Let them see who you really are? Did you offer your heart to them to see what they would do with it?”

Henry flinched, like her words stung his skin. “I didn’t always. No. One, I did. I think the experience wasn’t as wonderful as I’d hoped, and I was perhaps more reluctant to do it again after that. What are you trying to get out of me here? What question am I really answering?”

“I’m just wondering if you’ve ever been hurt.”

Henry watched her, trying to see a crack in her facade. She always looked him squarely in the eyes, but now, her eyes looked anywhere but him. He knew, in some ways, she was baiting him. He’d done this before himself. Felt himself drawn to someone who maybe didn’t fit his logical argument of who he should be with and tried to goad them into incriminating themselves, so he’d feel better about rejecting them.  _Is this what she’s doing?_    _Trying to get me to tell her I’m not good enough for her so she doesn’t have to say it to herself?_ He suddenly felt a great affection for her, born to some degree from pity. He could see it now, the pain she was hiding under her skin. The fear that was warring inside her. “You were hurt.” A question. Not a question. An invitation.

Julia looked at him now. Stared at him. Through him. Blood was pounding in her head.  _I chose to trust him when I agreed to help him. Will I trust him now? With this?_  His head was angled down, but his eyes looked up at her expectantly. “I was with someone for four years. Ari. We lived together, planned a future together. I loved him. Long story short, we wanted children and so we tried to have children and it never happened because apparently, I’m one of the flu treatment kids who drew a short straw. And he couldn’t deal with it. He had a distinct vision of our future planned and it involved having a family. After we realized I was…unable, it was always in the room with us, always this cloud over everything. He left…8 months ago.”

“It couldn’t have been him?”

“He never had the flu. His health Grade was shit for a variety of reasons, but he never got hit by the flu, by some miracle.”

Henry wanted to crawl into a hole. He shouldn’t have pushed her, not here. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m far from alone in this situation. There’s nothing to be done about it, so I’ve moved on.” Her voice was clipped, her emotions firmly locked away now.

The computer analyzing the test emitted three beeps to indicate it was ready for export.

“You ready?”

“I’m not worried about what’s in it. I have an extremely boring genetic history. My only worry right now is getting the timestamp and metadata altered to avoid detection.”

“We have to alter data all the time for the refugees, as we learn more about them, so you’re lucky. This system is much more customizable than you would find in a traditional lab. Let’s take a look.”

Julia set about altering the date, not just of export, but of original sample gathering, location, and any other details that could indicate a more recent test. She spent an hour combing through the file code for any hidden timestamp indicators and found two, much to Henry’s relief. He exported one copy into his wristlight for upload to his submission files and Julia took another copy as backup. She then deleted all metadata and identifying information from the test, leaving it to look as if it was for an unnamed refugee. She couldn’t delete the entire file - that would be red-flagged, but it wasn’t unusual for them to have unidentified subjects in the system. With luck, no one would question this happening on a day she shouldn’t be working. They packed up their bags, wiped down the tables and floors, and made a hasty retreat.

Henry and Julia parted at the edge of the road, both feeling exhausted from their heightened nerves. He practically ran back to his apartment to get the file placed within the submission package. Letting out a huge sigh of relief when the file transfer completed, he then promptly downed two glasses of whisky and fell asleep on the sofa.

Julia’s wristlight had synced the file to her home system as soon as she neared her private network. She fell back onto the worn sofa, letting the tension drain from her limbs. The wall monitor blinked, indicating the new file added to the system.

_I should check the results. Make sure everything is populated correctly._

But, her eyelids lost the fight to stay open and she drifted to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julia reviews Henry's file and finds some disturbing information. Their relationship evolves...

**Tilkka Apartments**

Julia shuffled her stockinged feet across the tiles of the kitchen floor, her hands wrapped around her coffee. Drifting to the tiny living room, she set the mug onto the table next to the sofa and sunk into it. A light snow was falling outside, leaving a dusting on the balcony rail. The blink of her wristlight pulled her away from the winter scene.

> Henry: Good morning, my dear. You have my deepest thanks for what you did. I am forever in your debt.
> 
> Julia: Did Jane Austen steal your wristlight?
> 
> Henry: Yes, and she won’t give it back until I find her a suitor of considerable wealth.
> 
> Julia: I think that’s a fair trade. I haven’t had a chance to check your file yet, but I will shortly. I’ll be sure to let you know your cause of death.
> 
> Henry: Is there a genetic marker for “prolonged tumescence”? I was hoping for something like that.
> 
> Julia: Wow. Well, if that is on the test, I will lie to you and tell you it’s something else so you won’t see it coming. (so to speak)
> 
> Henry: We’ve crossed a line, haven’t we? There’s no going back now.
> 
> Julia:  _You_  crossed that line and dragged me along.
> 
> Henry: I would cross all manner of lines for you.
> 
> Julia: We’ll see about that.

There is something burdensome about realizing you’re falling for someone. The recognition of the inevitable, bearing down on you. That this feeling of euphoria, resulting from something as insignificant as a lighthearted text conversation, would become a drug that you’d have to manage. That your desire to see this person would soon spur you to override responsibility and logic. And that you’d find yourself, in the near future, rearranging your life to stretch out each extra minute with them.

Julia peered down at her wavy reflection in her coffee and spoke his name softly, as if admitting to the things in her life that this was real. “Henry.” 

The blinking light of the wall monitor caught her eye.  _Speaking of Henry. Best get on with it._  “Show new file”.

The tests themselves are largely incomprehensible to a layperson. Grades are determined with special Ministry analytical software, but as Henry didn’t need a new grade, just a file to go along with it, she should be able to interpret enough to get an idea, and verify that it looks correct.

The big markers she was used to seeing - various forms of cancer, the main degenerative diseases, autoimmune disorders - would be easy for her to spot. He, thankfully, had nothing of interest. Nothing that would set off alarms. Near the end of the document was a reference code she wasn’t familiar with. “If I look this up and it says ‘prolonged tumescence’…I swear to god.”

The first three numbers of the code indicate a percentage possibility of contraction. His showed 40%. That number spiked her heart rate. Anything over 20% is considered highly probable. The final ten digits indicate the issue associated with the marker. She pulled up the marker database on her wristlight and plugged in the numbers.

> Avett Disease - Symptoms include weakness and wasting of all muscle groups, generally beginning with the arms and hands.  Progresses faster than most degenerative diseases, usually resulting in complete incapacitation and death within ten years of onset. This disease is extremely rare and has therefore not been allocated extensive research funds. Experimental treatment began in 2112 at the University of Berlin, but no successful treatment has been approved as of this writing. Onset is generally 40 - 60 years old.

She re-entered the code.

She entered the code a third time.

She read it over and over, trying to will the words to change.

_Goddammit, Henry._

> Julia: Are you home? Can I come over?
> 
> Henry: Yes, please do.

* * *

**Infinity Apartments**

Henry’s face was lighter than she’d seen it since meeting him just two days ago, like the weight of that missing test had been pulling his body down and now that it had been lifted, his eyes were bright and he somehow seemed taller. He wore tattered jeans and a grey t-shirt with Helsinki’s city hockey team logo fading across the front. His hair, wet from a recent shower, was wavier than usual, with untamed curls falling onto his forehead. Julia stood in his doorway and all thoughts and worries dissolved for a moment, superseded by the simple acknowledgment filling her mind.

 _He’s beautiful._  

When his wristlight first blinked the message from her, he’d been lying in bed, legs tangled in the down comforter. He was listening to Satie. This sad, beautiful music now was his sensory trigger for her - the image he held of her sitting on his sofa in the dark of that evening, her teasing smile, her piercing gaze. Henry then indulged himself and imagined her here with him, lying in bed next to him. He turned on his side and imagined her face pressed against the pillow, her hair a wild mess around her, her warmth creeping toward him.

When she arrived, he opened the door to find her waiting for him with an unreadable expression, cheeks pink from the cold, her hair dusted with tiny snowflakes resting on the curls peeking out from her hat.

_She’s beautiful._

Julia waited at the table while he finished making his coffee, while he chatted about inane news, as if she wasn’t about to blow up his world. But she wanted to have this moment of normalcy with him, to imagine what it might be like if they were just together, doing this without the spectre of danger.

“You’re sure you don’t want any? I’m really quite proud of my coffee skills. I know, most people think it’s just water and beans and you push a button, but this is - now don’t laugh - it’s an art.” 

Julia’s face broke out in a grin as she barely contained her laugh. And Henry felt a burst of elation to see it. He’d sensed something wrong from the moment she arrived, but was not at all eager to spoil the hope he finally felt. Her smile disappeared quickly.  _She’s going to tell me we can’t see each other. And she’s right. I’ll be looked on with suspicion if I’m with her once I have Clearance. They’ll investigate her during my processing. Christ, I hate this._ He settled into the chair across from her and sipped his coffee, watching her pick at a bit of string hanging from the hem of her sleeve. 

“I think it’s my turn to tell you to just go ahead and say whatever you need to say, then.” It sounded harsher than he’d meant, and he offered an apologetic smile, betraying the worry that squeezed his chest.

_Rip the bandage off._

“I reviewed your test results and found a marker for something called Avett Disease.” She touched her wristlight and his instantly blinked with the transferred information on the disease. She watched his face as he read, waiting for tears, for anger, for something. Instead he just looked up at her with a confused expression.

“I’m not trying to question your expertise, but I just wonder if perhaps you’ve misread something. I just don’t see how this wouldn’t have been discovered before now, so I’m inclined to think this isn’t correct.”

“You didn’t have a DNA test prior to now, Henry. I know you said you had to have, but don’t you think it’s a little odd that you would have this marker and no prior test to show it? You would never have made it to where you are with this marker on your record. You’d be tossed out of any High Grade position.”

Henry’s voice rose, despite his efforts to contain his emotions. “No, I’m sorry. It’s not possible. I had one and it had to have been lost somehow, maybe someone accidentally deleted a file or something. But there is no way _this_  could be part of my test. My parents would have seen the initial test and they’d have known if there was something wrong.”

Julia searched his face to try to understand if he was truly in denial. “You said your parents would have known. Henry, I’m not wrong. This marker is there. But what if…what if your parents saw it and tried to hide it? Keep anyone from seeing it so you wouldn’t be adversely affected? Are they in a position where they could have found a way around it? Somehow gotten maybe a fake test or something to get you a High Grade?”

Henry vigorously shook his head. “I can’t imagine my father doing that. I just…he’s a believer. He  _believes_  in the Collective, in Clearance. He was ready to cut Quentin entirely out of our lives when he wouldn’t agree to go down the path my father wanted. I can’t believe he would risk his entire livelihood, his position, to hide my test. And why wouldn’t he have brought it up  _now_ , knowing I wouldn’t have one when I needed one? There’s no way.”

Julia nodded. He was right. That part didn’t make sense. “What about your mother?”

He leaned forward on the table, his face buried in his hands. Silent for a minute. “Shit. Maybe. She has Clearance. And she knows all the same people as my father, knows how these systems work. Honestly, she was there when they were building the early systems. Jesus. We’ve got to talk to her.”

“We?”

“Please. Come with me. I don’t know what’s going to happen, how I’m going to fix this. And you’re the only person in the world who knows about this.” 

* * *

**The Landry, Helsinki**

Henry’s father was gone, thankfully, preparing for a fundraiser for the Natural History Museum when they arrived. His mother had opted out of going, having been at another fundraiser herself last night. Margaret Beauchamp was shorter than Julia expected, with long, wavy, dark brown hair. No hint of grey, although it was likely dyed. Despite it being a Sunday and her not having plans, she ushered them in to the grand apartment wearing a nicer dress than Julia would have worn to a wedding. She was rather grateful Henry had not opted to change from his casual Sunday look, lest she feel uniquely slovenly.

Margaret presented them with tea and small cakes in a formal sitting room and Julia felt an intense urge to run out of this place. If Henry hadn’t been looking like he was about to pass out next to her, she might have left him to his mother and wished him luck. There were pleasantries and small talk and Julia willed herself to get through it, although the entire time, she felt acutely aware of her poor posture and was certain Margaret could somehow see her Grade, like it was written on her face.

Henry had finally had enough of the small talk as well and cut to the chase. “As you know, I’m getting ready to start the Clearance process and I had some questions for you about my DNA test. Funny thing is, I was not able to locate it in my files.”

If there was a record for rapid blinking, Margaret Beauchamp may have broken it in the next few moments. She glanced around, as if Clarence might suddenly appear in the doorway. “I will speak to you in private, Henry.” Henry didn’t want Julia to leave, but also knew his mother would not budge. She clearly knew something, and he couldn’t risk her withholding anything from him. He turned to Julia and gave an apologetic shrug. She nodded and left them, settling herself in the kitchen at the end of the hall.

Margaret’s mouth opened as if to speak, but no words followed.

Henry wasted no time. “Do you know what happened to it? Could it have been deleted somehow or the file corrupted at some point?”

She shook her head and spoke slowly, carefully. “No…it should be there. I don’t know what happened, but it is possible it could have been corrupted in a system reset.” She nodded to herself, thinking through the possibilities. “Yes, that could be. It’s not unusual for errors like that to occur when working with new systems.” 

She had to have known. Had to have seen the original, with the marker. Henry felt his chest constrict, an anxious energy coursing through him. He needed to hear her say it. “You saw it. My test?”

Her smile betrayed nothing, a woman well-versed in saying what needed to be said in any given moment. “Of course, dear.”

She thought he didn’t know. “Julia ran a new test for me and informed me of the results this morning.”

The color drained from Margaret’s face.

Henry’s voice shook. “You knew.”

She did not meet his eyes, focusing instead on the table between them, her fingers tracing the rim of her tea cup. “I saw the file, the analysis, before anyone else. I had been working with the new system before it was rolled out on a wider scale and I used your test as a trial, to make sure everything was working. You weren’t yet eighteen, so we didn’t need to have your Grade, but I had you tested early so I could put it through this new system.”

He sat back, trying to absorb this information. That his mother had known, and had kept it from him.

His mother closed her eyes for a moment, steadying herself. “Henry, I was devastated. This was not…not some heart condition or easily treatable cancer where we could push for you to be placed a little higher if we offered up payment. There wasn’t treatment for this, nothing successful. You would be graded as a certain strain on society with a limited future and your life would be over before it began. And people would look on your father and I with pity or honestly, disdain, as if we had any control. But, I had a friend who worked on the new systems and I trusted him, and he agreed to help me. He got a dummy test put together and spliced in some of your DNA coding, cleaned up the data so it looked authentic, and we submitted that when you turned eighteen. Your Grade came through, and once your father got you into Ministry work, it was a great relief, because I thought you’d be safe.”

He wanted to scream. To grab her tea cup and shatter it against the window. Every minute of his life for the last twenty years she’d known. He forced himself to swallow his anger. She never meant to harm him. Spewing vitriol at her would not help him feel better or solve his problem.

He spoke through gritted teeth. “I need to have a new DNA test made up that will not be detected as fraudulent and I need it within 24 hours. This friend who helped you before…could he help me now?”

“Yes. I believe so. I will contact him immediately. I’m so sorry.” Her chin quivered. Henry rose, walked to his mother, and knelt before her, pulling her against him as she sobbed on his shoulder. He pulled away after a few minutes and walked out of the room without a word.

* * *

Henry found Julia in the kitchen, trying to pick up crumbled pieces of cake off the floor. She whispered, “I kind of made a mess.” He said nothing, wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible, and she saw from his expression no words would be forthcoming. The only words he spoke on the way to the tram were to let her know his mother would be getting a new file for him. She grasped his hand as they weaved through people to get on the tram, trying to calm him, reassure him. Henry pulled her close to him on the ride home, needing her to steady him, to keep himself from sinking into a heap on the floor.

“Thank you for coming with me.” He leaned into her, his shaky breath whispering over her temple.

The snow was falling in earnest now on their walk back from the tram. They huddled together to keep warm and found themselves unexpectedly laughing as they hunched over to avoid the snow blowing directly in their faces. Julia was secretly grateful the weather seemed to be on her side, distracting him for a moment from his predicament.

Once inside, they shook themselves like dogs, stomping their cold, wet feet, carefully stepping out of their snowy shoes and hopping over the chunks of melting snow. Henry had turned the apartment’s heat up from his wristlight as soon as they left his mother’s, so it was, in fact, quite toasty. Julia wandered over to the sofa and pulled a blanket off the back to wrap up in while Henry shuffled around the kitchen doing god-knows-what.   _He’s a tinkerer_ , she thought. A few minutes later he was hovering over her, smiling at her prone form, mummified in the blanket wrapped tightly around her with just her face peeking out, her cheeks flush from the cold.

“Comfy?”

“No, I’m still cold. Warm me.” She unwrapped the blanket and scooted forward so he could lie down behind her. Henry examined her face, her gaze unwavering, an invitation.  _We have crossed a line, haven’t we?_

He awkwardly situated himself behind her, his legs just a little too long, and she lifted her head so he could slip his arm under, his other arm lying over her. With each shift of their bodies, they found a way to fit more perfectly together, his knees pressed into the back of hers, his nose touching the spot just behind her ears, her fingers tracing the lines on his palm.

She breathed the words into his hand. “It’s a 40% chance, Henry.”

His grip tightened around her waist.

“Then I will live now.”

He pressed his lips against her skin, just behind her ears. Her breath hitched, and she stretched her neck for him, encouraging him to continue. He kissed each bit of skin he could reach, his lips never withdrawing, but gliding across her, breathing her in. Julia pushed herself to her back, reached up to his face and, without hesitation, pulled his mouth to hers. She loved this moment, this first taste of another person, the unexpected discovery of their mouth, their tongue, the sounds that escape them as you draw their lip between your teeth - he wanted to drown in her and she wanted to swallow him entirely.

She hooked her leg over one of his and pulled his body down upon hers. Grasping the bottom of his t-shirt and pulling up, she said “I need to feel your skin.” He tried to prop himself up to remove it and lost his balance, nearly falling on her. “Bed, then?” He stood quickly and pulled her up, crushing her against him and their mouths met again, making her suddenly very aware of their height difference, as she grasped the waistband of his jeans to steady herself.

They stumbled into his bedroom, not wanting to break contact and nearly falling half a dozen times in the process. He pulled off his t-shirt and socks and promptly turned his attention again to Julia who was leaning on the edge of the bed, frantically trying to work off her knee-high socks which she’d chosen this morning for warmth, not ease of pre-sex removal. He grabbed her before she lost her balance entirely and knelt before her. “Allow me.” She sat down on the bed and leaned back on her elbows, her smile a curious combination of desire and amusement. Henry pulled, stretching the socks to an impossible length until they finally snapped free of her foot, thwacking him in the face. She threw her head back and laughed harder than she had in days until she found him hovering over her. Trying very hard to keep a serious face, he said “Those socks are retired as of today. From now on, only ankle socks or no socks at all.” 

She bit her lip, stifling a laugh. “I don’t know. I like the idea of you having to work for this a little.”

He growled and captured her mouth and within seconds she’d forgotten the silliness that had just transpired. Henry’s hand slid under her sweater and his lips traversed the expanse of her neck.  _God, her skin is so soft._  He pulled her back with him off the bed and they stood together, a crackling energy between them. Henry slid his hand around her waist and under her sweater, splaying it across her warm back. “I need to feel  _your_  skin.” Her own hands answered him, moving without thought, pulling at clothing. Her hair springing wildly free as she shed her sweater. His fingers fumbling with buttons, moving too fast for dexterity, not moving fast enough.

Henry found himself wanting everything  _now_ , to lay her bare before him and dive into her, and at the same time he wanted to slowly kiss every inch of her, memorizing each line, each peak and valley of flesh. Every new inch revealing a surprise of softness, of creases and freckles and tufts of hair. When at last they stood together in only their skin, their mouths met, soft and open and hungry. 

She pulled him with her, awkwardly falling back onto the bed, and their bodies melded together, a tangle of limbs and desperate hands. They ceased moving for a moment, each wanting to feel their bodies pressed together, that simple intimacy of two stomachs aligned, breaths pushing back and forth into the other. Their hands lost patience first, beginning to roam across each other’s skin, sliding over her breasts, dragging through the hair on his chest, skating across the smooth skin of her thighs then diving between her folds, warm, wet, and swollen.

“Henry!” She gasped and arched, her fingers clawing into his back. He angled his hips between her, pushing her thighs apart and eased two fingers into her, as he flicked his tongue over her nipple. Her hips pressed upward, grinding against him, eager for more friction. With each thrust of his hand she pulled him closer, digging her hands into his shoulder, climbing him, anchoring herself to him to keep her from floating away. Her muscles spasmed around him and she threw her head back, gasping for air.

He pushed the hair from her brow and kissed her deeply. “Good?”

Her smile was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “Yes.” She grasped blindly for him and found him hard against her, and gave him a gentle squeeze, feeling him pulse against her palm. His hips jerked forward, unable to be still with her hand wrapped around him. Hovering over her, his body trembled, and he dropped his head to rest against hers, his ragged breath blowing her hair. 

Julia lifted her other hand to his face, cupping his cheek with a tenderness that startled him and drew his focus to her. He looked into her eyes and saw trust, vulnerability, fear, joy, pain, love, and every unnamed feeling they’d shared since meeting. She had gathered them all and kept them for him, for now. When she questioned him at the lab, she said she wanted to know if he knew pain. The other unspoken question was did he know love.  _Yes. Yes. You are my pain and my love._

The moan that escaped him as he entered her, pushed her over the precipice before she knew she was there. She went from urgent pants to breathless silence as her muscles seized, her entire sensory experience condensing to her core. With each thrust, he shook loose her taut muscles and as his pace quickened and his completion neared, she grasped his neck and pulled him to her and she felt him, in his final push, expand and release, that perfect moment when he became the most vulnerable of creatures, gasping her name in desperate joy.

Julia pulled Henry down, letting him collapse his weight upon her, relishing the solid, exhausted body clinging to hers. She buried her face into his neck and wept.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry begins new work after obtaining Clearance. Julia finds out some distressing news about Quentin.

**Helsinki**

**Central Market**

“I think that’s everything. Oh wait, nutmeg. You don’t have that already, do you?”

Henry veered into the spices aisle and looked back at Julia, amused. “I love that you think I might own nutmeg. Nobody owns nutmeg. No one in the history of modern civilization has owned nutmeg. Nutmeg is a myth.”

“It’s a a pre-ground and relatively inexpensive myth that now resides in your basket. You’re going to be famous - the first man to ever own nutmeg. I can’t wait to tell my friends that I was there when it happened.” She plopped the small container into the basket filled with dried pasta and cream and salad fixings.

He pressed his lips to her ear. “You will pay for this insolence later, you know. Don’t think I’ll forget.”

Julia smirked and leaned into him. “Nutmeg is an aphrodisiac, I’ve heard.”

“Ooh, really?”

“Why do you think I chose this recipe?”

“You think I look sexy when I slurp noodles?” 

“Well, yes that was part of the reason.” She pinched his side, causing him to yelp and leap away, nearly taking out a row of sea salt. “I’m going to faint if we don’t eat soon. Let’s go.”

They rounded the corner toward checkout and Henry collided with a woman, dropping his basket and scaring them both. “God, sorry! I’m so sorry!” The words spilled out of him on instinct as he bent to pick up the basket and when his head rose, he finally saw who he’d bumped into. “Ava.”

Julia felt his foot push against her as she stood behind him in the narrow aisle. He nudged her backward and made no move to acknowledge her. _Oh._ She quickly turned to the shelves and began looking at sugar substitutes, dropping to a squat to conceal herself as much as possible.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry.”

“Oh my goodness, Henry. I’m fine.” Ava was always dressed as if she was on her way to a high-powered meeting, heels and severe suit jackets and heavy gold necklaces. And here she was in a tiny market on a Saturday, power-suited up.

Henry widened his stance, as if he could make Julia disappear behind him. “Is this your usual market? I’ve never seen you here before.” He was certain she heard only guilt and deflection in his words as he was nowhere near capable of sounding casual at the moment. 

He’d made Clearance one month ago and he and Julia were planning a quiet dinner at his place to celebrate their two months together. It had been such a whirlwind, those first few weeks of anxiously waiting to be found out, but his mother had come through. The new DNA test was perfect, and the rest of the process felt like a breeze after that hurdle. Ava had been pleasant to work with, but he sensed in her a sharp edge, angled to strike quickly if she felt threatened. She was not one to cross.

Henry had been careful with Julia, not going to public events with her, not speaking of her at work, knowing it could derail the Clearance process if they began investigating her, questioning how much someone at her level could be trusted. Now that he’d gained Clearance, he’d become a little less paranoid, thinking perhaps no one was really watching. But running into Ava, seeing how she angled her head to look at Julia behind him, he felt panic ripple through his chest. Logically, it shouldn’t matter. He’d barely been exposed to classified information at this point, what could he possibly have to say to anyone? But still, he understood this world and how they thought. He understood the invisible lines intersecting social strata and that he was expected to remain firmly on one side with only the most casual relationships on the other side. The market suddenly felt too crowded.

“Oh, I’ve been here a few times. I have a friend who lives in your building so I’m buying a few things for dinner. Looks like you’re planning something nice tonight, too. Not alone, I hope.”

“No, uh just some friends I haven’t seen in a while. Anyway, so sorry about running into you like that. But it was nice to...run into you,” he awkwardly finished. Julia coughed to cover her laugh behind him.

 

* * *

 

**Infinity Apartments**

“Is she really that scary? I mean, aside from the high-heels and the lasers that shoot from her eyes.”

Henry turned down the heat, bringing the sauce to a simmer. “I _wish_ she had lasers. At least I’d know, ‘okay, don’t stand in the path of the laser eyes’. Instead I just wonder what she knows, what she’s thinking, and imagine the worst-case scenarios.” He handed the knife to Julia, so she could prep the salad. “I know I’m paranoid. I’ll get over it eventually.” 

“I kind of like it when you’re worried. I mean, it’s annoying, but also sort of adorable.” She nudged him playfully with her shoulder.

A tiny smile pulled on his mouth. In his closest approximation of an adorable cartoon voice, he said, “I’m not adorable.”

Julia set down the knife and turned to Henry, squishing his cheeks together with her hands. “I once saw a hedgehog wearing a bowler hat and holding a tiny cane. It was a hideous monster compared to you.” She pulled his face down, his lips bulging out, and kissed him lightly. 

He smiled against her lips and pulled her hands away from his face, then kissed her deeply, running one hand up her back to cup her neck. He began trailing kisses down her neck, behind her ear. Mumbling into her skin, he said, “Do you know how hedgehogs make love?” Her throaty laugh vibrated the skin against his lips.

“No. I don’t. Enlighten me.”

He latched on to an earlobe and bit lightly. “Very carefully.”

She laughed again, drawing his body tight against hers. “How old do you think that joke is? It’s only goofy old men like you keeping it going, I think.”

“It’s as old as hedgehogs. And now I need food. This nutmeg had better blow my mind.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead and turning to the stovetop, stirred the cream sauce and poured it over the bowl of linguine.

“Do you think you’re the first person in history to hope nutmeg blows your mind?”

“Statistically, someone has had to have said it before. Everything ever said has been said before. We’re all just looping through time, reliving each other’s lives.”

Julia’s eyes widened. “You really _are_ hungry.”

“Starving.”

 

* * *

 

**Ministry Health Administration**

Six weeks of orientation sounded like too much when he first began to work within the Clearance level of the Ministry, but once through it, Henry still found his head swimming with new information. He hoped he didn’t sound too incompetent with each request to repeat that again. Things had begun to slow down finally, and he’d been granted his wish to begin work within the Health Administration. With a history of data analysis under his belt, he was placed in the analysis division for Population Augmentation. The fertility problem plaguing the general population was undoubtedly a concern. Still, he could not help feeling some disappointment as he’d much rather tackle the issue of how to serve the currently living.

They’d been collecting a good deal more data on population fertility than he could have imagined and even with his limited knowledge of Ministry budget, it appeared this division was a top priority. The department for data analysis was huge with an entire floor of the building comprised entirely of testing labs.

Henry poured over reports each day, matching up demographics, adjusting criteria and analyzing reports against each other to find patterns, inconsistencies, anything to help them fine tune the direction of their research and testing. Computers did the bulk of the work, but they’d found the human brain has a way of parsing ideas out of information that could not be replicated in a meaningful way with computers alone. He liked the work, found it rather exhausting by the end of the day, which he would take over boredom.

His boss, Maria, was no-nonsense and held them to high standards, not failing to point out even the smallest errors. He liked it, this well-oiled machine. She’d called him in to her office near the end of the day, most of the office having cleared out for the weekend.

“Henry, sit. How are things going? Any concerns?”

He crossed his leg over the other, bouncing his foot lightly. “No, things are good. I feel comfortable with my assignments.”

She smiled brightly, which unnerved him a little, not having seen that much expression on her face prior to this meeting. “Excellent. You do wonderful work. Honestly, I’ve guided many new analysts through their introduction to Clearance work and it is usually something close to disastrous. It turns out someone’s genetic makeup and overall social standing has very little to do with their mental capacity. Don’t tell anyone I said that.”

Henry allowed himself a small laugh, but kept it in check, still uncertain if this was some test to see how loyal he could be.

“I spoke with Ava Dornan about you today. She thinks quite highly of you. Seems to think you might be a good candidate for working on a project I’m spearheading. We need someone with...discretion. Someone without a lot of family commitments. It won’t be terribly time-consuming, but we feel someone without children, someone not interested in having children, would be the best fit. It can be rather emotional for some people working with fertility research. Do you think that would work for you?”

Her inquiry was a splash of cold water, unexpected and jarring. Here was the ugly truth. Even those who barely knew him knew he wouldn’t be a father. And hearing that come from her filled him with loss, the assumption that he wouldn’t want to be a father. Another version of his future that was cut off, impossible. They’d not talked about it, he and Julia. She probably thought he didn’t care that she couldn’t have children, maybe even was happy not to have to worry about it. That she might think that, like everyone else apparently did, was a blow. But what if this opportunity was another tilting of the universe, in the same way that Julia’s introduction into his world came at just the right moment? Maybe this opportunity was meant for them as well. Maybe this fertility work could give them children. “Yes. Yes, I’ve love to work on this.”

 

* * *

 

 

**Kirkkokatu, University Apartments, Helsinki**

Julia moved her knight forward and looked to Quentin, waiting for a reaction. His attention had been drifting to his desk all afternoon, and she found him drawn to it yet again. What he was looking at she hadn’t figured out. Piles of old books, pens, notepads, and all the archaic detritus he surrounded himself with filled the spaces of his life. He was a man out of time. “Where are you today, Q?”

“Hm? My move, is it?” He thoughtlessly nudged his queen, setting her up to capture him.

She leaned back in her chair and stared at him, waiting for him to snap out of his daze. “Are you all right? I don’t think you are.” She was genuinely concerned. She had grown so used to his humor, his energy, that to see him like this, with an aura of resigned sadness was so strange. No, not sadness...something deeper and more penetrating than that. The light in him had been dimmed.

He finally looked at her, shadows carved under his eyes. “They’re slashing the program. They pulled funding for the digs indefinitely. I’ve been told I can keep my office for 6 months if I wish to teach, but my position is not guaranteed after that, which of course means, it is terminated, but they don’t have the nerve to admit it.”

Twenty years he’d been doing this - running digs, writing papers, reminding the world of what it used to be, the things forgotten, the things thrown away, physically holding history up in front of everyone’s eyes to show them where they came from. It was his identity.

“Are there other universities that might have openings?”

Quentin stood slowly, wearily, and shuffled into the tiny kitchen. He emerged with two glasses and a bottle of whisky and poured for them both. The chair creaked as he sat, and he arched his brow as he spoke over his glass. “It may be time for a new adventure.” 

“A new job? What kind of adventure do you have in mind?” She was perplexed by his inscrutable countenance, teetering between sadness and a mysterious hopefulness. She couldn’t read him.

“I’m leaving Helsinki for good. I don’t know exactly where I’ll end up. But I think I’ll head back to Scotland. I want to explore a bit, sniff out the hidden gems.” He leaned forward and gently took her hand in his, turning her palm over, running his thumb over the lines in her hand. “Your friendship has been one of my life’s treasures, Julia.”

Tears welled in her eyes unexpectedly. “You sound like you’re saying goodbye. I would have suggested something more exciting than chess if this is our last game together.”

“Like what?” He grinned widely.

“Dodgeball.”

“Do you want to throw something at me now?”

“Yes.” She couldn’t stop them now and the tears fell freely as she covered her face with her other hand. Quentin squeezed the hand he held and found himself weeping with her. They were losing something. Friendship wasn’t enough of a word, not for two people who’d crafted their own atmosphere, the air made of jokes and trust and understanding and love.

“You’ll tell Henry for me?”

“You’re not going to say goodbye to him?”

He swallowed his whisky, immediately pouring more. “I was ten when Henry was born. My parents were so thrilled, not expecting to have another son. And I should have resented him - they completely forgot I existed for a few years when he was born - but I didn’t. I connected with him, even as a baby. I adored him.

“When he was two my mother left me home with him and I played with him, racing little cars down the halls, swinging him around. I’d taken him upstairs to my room to get my model airplanes and I forgot to close the gate at the top of the stairs. I remember standing on a chair in my room to get the plane that was hanging from the ceiling and realizing that he wasn’t there anymore. And for a second I thought nothing of it and just yelled for him. And when he didn’t answer I was suddenly hit with panic. I knew. I could picture him falling down that big staircase. I felt like I’d been kicked in the chest. I jumped down and raced out into the hall and he was standing at the top of the stairs, lifting his foot to step over the bottom of the gate to get to the steps and of course, his foot tripped on it and he started to fall forward. I dove for him and grabbed his shirt, just barely, between my fingers and pulled him back. He started crying - he knew he was about to fall. I held him for half an hour, long after he’d stopped crying, but I couldn’t let go of him.”

He sniffled and wiped a tear from the edge of his eye. “I still look at him and see that little kid about to fall. But he has you now. You’ll catch him.”

Her voice cracked on the words. “I’ll catch him.”

 

* * *

  

**Infinity Apartments**

Henry had been pacing for the last ten minutes, since she’d told him of Quentin’s goodbye. “You think he means to what...disappear? Just walk away from everyone? Why?”

Julia had co-opted Henry’s worn hockey t-shirt as her favored nightwear. It rode up around her hips as she pushed herself up in the bed. She wrapped a loose string dangling from the seam around her finger, cutting little white lines into her skin.

Julia had never told Henry about what Quentin had told her about the journals he found in Scotland. It had really only flitted through her thoughts after Q had mentioned going to Scotland again, but she honestly didn’t think it had to do with that. Trying to explain that to Henry seemed like a disastrous idea, certain to be bungled by her retelling and would sound somehow even more preposterous than Quentin’s own words.

She quickly squashed the idea of bringing that up and considered what he’d really want to do if he meant to leave his life behind. “I don’t know. I can’t imagine he’d completely cut off communication with everyone, but I think he just wants a fresh start. Sometimes you need to get away from anything familiar to really begin something new. I thought about doing that, after Ari left. Everything felt like a reminder and I thought it might be easier to get away from it all.”

“But you didn’t. What kept you?”

“My friends. Evan. Your brother. The other nurses I’d come to know. We all have networks of support, whether or not we realize it. All these people knew me in some way, knew some of what I’d been through. And the more I talked to people, the more I realized everyone has stories. We all have tragedies and doubts and failures. We might die alone, but we survive together. So, I stayed. And they helped me rebuild myself. They helped me become stronger than I’d ever been. I don’t like that he’s leaving, but I understand why he might feel like he needs to.”

Henry crawled across the down comforter and collapsed next to her. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed a kiss to her hip. “I would not have survived without you. I am stronger because of you. And weaker.”

Julia scooted down and laid her head on the pillow next to his and ran her fingers through the hair at this temple, his eyelids fluttering at the soothing sensation. “It’s scary, isn’t it? I love you so much, Henry. I would destroy anyone who tried to hurt you. I would not stop at anything to protect you.” Her eyes glistened, the light from the lamp casting tiny shadows of her eyelashes onto her skin.

Henry caressed her cheek with his palm, brushing her curls away from her face. “I know you would. You are the strongest person I’ve ever known. I didn’t think it was possible to love someone as much as I love you.” He kissed her once. And again. Each kiss a promise to protect, each caress a reassurance of desire, each synchronized movement an answer to their fears. Later, as her hands pressed into his chest and she moved above him, their hearts thundered in unison, a declaration that they would survive together.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry begins work on the new fertility project and is disturbed by what he finds. Quentin arrives in Scotland. Julia learns about Henry's project...and then some.

**Ministry Health Administration**

“You’ll have access to all the labs with your Clearance level now, but it’s unlikely you’d need to visit them in person. Maybe if you can’t get a response and need clarification. Plus, they don’t really like having us show up there. Ruins their lab coat vibe to have a suit stroll through.” Maria had been briefing him on the new project for the last twenty minutes and he was beginning to lose hope that he’d be able to have dinner with Julia. “I know it’s late, but I’d really love if you could get started with this data. See how far you can get tonight because we’ll have some new samples coming in tomorrow and we’re under a lot of pressure to get this project off the ground. Any questions?”

_No dinner then._

“No, I’ll get to it. Thank you.” Henry walked back to his office, watching people packing up for the day just as he was settling in for a few more hours of work, having little success tampering his bitterness.

_**Henry:** Bad news. Can’t make it tonight. I’ve got some new work I have to get started on. Sorry._

_**Julia:** I will eat your portion then. Please roll me into bed when you get home._

_**Henry:** I’ll do my best._

He dove into the work, running some initial comparison reports to get an overview of the data. For a project just getting off the ground, there was a surprising amount of data to parse. Maria had explained that the project’s central goal was researching ways to increase the fertility rate and developing more efficient alternative fertilization methods. It would be broken down into three phases, with Phase 1 already underway. His data from Phase 1 revealed that in the past three months, hundreds of women had engaged in an egg donation effort. Phase 2, scheduled to begin next week, involved in-lab fertilization. The basic process hadn’t changed in the last 100 years, and the odds of a successful implantation resulting in live birth remained quite low.

Henry began combing through data, noting inconsistencies and irregularities, but found his thoughts drifting. _Who were these donors? How were there so many women donating their eggs when everyone was struggling to conceive?_ Compensation seemed the most likely motivator. Curiosity got the better of him and he pulled up the project proposal to do some word searches. _Payment. Compensation. Monetary._ The words only showed up in relation to legal clarification for payment of lab equipment vendors and clinic compensation. Nothing to suggest donors were being paid for their eggs.

He pushed that question aside and considered the other thing that stuck out to him as he perused the project proposal: the first two phases, donation and fertilization of eggs, while too expensive for most of the population to attempt, were routine, part of a long-established practice - nothing that would require a special project. _What is Phase 3 about then?_ Henry scanned the document again and found no further mention of Phase 3. Whatever it entailed, he was not privy to it.

He shook off the questions and forged ahead, having written the night off anyway. Henry’s mind continued to drift however, and before he’d known what he was doing, he’d looked up the lab number and was walking through the empty halls to the elevator.

Maria had said he’d have access to the labs, which meant he wasn’t really doing anything wrong -- merely getting more information so he could properly do his job. This is what he told himself as he held his hand up to the scanner at the lab door. A faint buzz could be heard and then a beep and metal sliding as the door opened for him. The lights turned on as he entered. _God, it’s big._ Locked cabinets and monitors lined the walls with six raised tables in the center of the room. He had imagined two or three people working in here, not dozens. Two freezers sat at one end of the room with pull-out drawers, presumably where samples were kept. There was a door just to the left of the freezers, but the window was blacked out and his attempt to open it was denied.

He strolled through the lab, seeing nothing else unusual, nothing to really feed his curiosity, until he noticed a wall monitor blinking. Someone had left it on. As he approached, it turned on fully, sensing the presence of a person. Whomever it belonged to had been in the middle of writing notes and left abruptly which is probably why it didn’t shut down on its own. He now felt a surge of guilt. This was certainly invading privacy. But he couldn’t resist.

_Ova extraction has been largely successful with Phase 1 clinics. Egg production stimulation is administered once cycle monitoring has begun, with time-release implantation devices inserted at that time as well. The subject is then requested for a follow-up visit when the egg production is deemed sufficient and ready for extraction based on the internal device measurements. (transmitted via wireless lab intercepts)_

_There are some inefficiencies in the participant pool process that can be addressed with adjusting demographics. Non-partnered subjects should be preferred (reducing risk of pregnancy during process), lowering the age minimum to widen the pool (16?), establishing birth control history. It may be worth tasking a group with determining better subject requirements._

_As for subject participation, we have had no issues with women questioning the required visits. The most effective reasoning being for pre-cancer testing. Clinic reports say this reasoning allows them to keep subjects from being too concerned, but also relaying enough urgency that they comply with our time frame in most cases._

_Requiring anesthesia for the extraction procedure was our greatest hurdle, but we have found that we are able to apply a local anesthesia while giving a mild sedative and we can successfully extract ova without inconveniencing the subject greatly or inviting inquiry. Phase 1 has been generally successful and will improve with changes noted._

_Phase 1 is set to expand as we begin Phase 2 lab work. Freezers are prepped for embryo storage. We anticipate Phase 2 will take no more than three months assuming no major issues._

_Preparation for Phase 3 is underway with all team members aware of the importance of the success of this project. All are very excited to see the incubation pods in action. Two pods have been set up in Lab 12B with room for expansion of up to_

Henry felt short of breath, his chest constricting. _Most effective reasoning..._ He backed away from the monitor and ran into the table, the sudden jolt of the metal against the floor sending adrenaline coursing through him. _These women don’t know we’re taking their eggs. We’re lying to them._ He quickly scanned the notes again, certain he had to have misread. _Incubation pods?_  

As his brain struggled to piece together what he’d just learned, he noticed his hands shaking and sweat had begun beading on his forehead. Henry rushed out of the lab, speed-walking down the desolate hall, the sound of his shoes squeaking against the tile floors impossibly loud in his panicked ears. At the elevator he began pushing the down arrow repeatedly while ignoring his inner logic telling him one push is enough. His body relaxed when the elevator finally stopped to let him on and he was even more grateful to find it empty. He’d go back to his office, finish the analysis, and get out of here. Nothing could be done now in any case. As the doors were closing, he heard heels clacking rapidly against the floor, and a hand shot through the gap.

She straightened her glasses and scanned her hand for the floor she wanted. Henry felt panic rise in his throat and willed his body to settle lest he pass out. “Henry. Working late on your new project, I see. I’m delighted you’re so invested in the good work we’re doing here.”

“Good to see you again, Ava.” He pulled at his collar, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.

She turned to him, fixing him in her sights. “I hope you aren’t working this late every night. Makes dating rather difficult, doesn’t it? Believe me, I know.”

“No, just getting a head start on the new project. I’ll be going home soon.”

“I _knew_ you’d be interested in it. Funny meeting you on this floor instead of the analysis offices. Were you coming from the labs or am I mistaken?”

_How was this elevator going so slowly?_

“Just needed a change of scenery to clear my head. Been a long day.”

*bing* _Thank you, Jesus._

“Have a nice evening, Henry.”

 

* * *

 

**Inverness, Scotland**

Quentin’s decision to wear four shirts was a fortuitous one. He wrapped the flannel button-down around his head and neck and pulled the collar of his leather jacket up. The sleet pelted his face and sent a bone-deep chill through his weary body, but he had no intention of stopping. He had to be nearing the town. The route he’d walked in 2114 had a good deal more buildings and lights than this one, but the one car he’d seen since leaving the stones left no doubt as to the success of his excursion.

His foremost concern was that he might be mistaken for a madman with his head wrapped up like an old woman and his teeth chattering incessantly. Cresting a hill, he spotted light and activity pouring out of a building down the street. A small sign swayed above the entrance. The Innes had the distinct glow of a pub, and with luck, directions to an inn.

The smell of the food wafting from the pub nearly derailed his plans, but he reminded himself that acquiring shelter had to come first. The pub was quieter than he’d expected with old men leaning into each other, dipping their heads to their pints. Sidling up to the bar he found his answer. Flyers, worn and yellowed with smoke, were plastered on the walls. _Recruits Wanted - 91st Highlanders - Fall In Boys!_ The Great War. It hit him finally. Where he was. _When_ he was. The young men were all gone, fighting and dying in fields and trenches likely. And if the men were already gone, was it later in the war than he expected? He couldn’t devise a very good way to ask the year, so he settled for asking about an inn.

“Ye’ll follow this road then two streets down that way and there’ll be an inn likely wi’ a bed for ye.”

He spent one of his precious few coins on a whisky shot to warm him before heading back out. When Quentin arrived at the inn, he was relieved to find the barkeep’s prediction came to pass. The elderly woman, who went by Mrs. MacDonald, checked him in and squinted at him, either suspicious or losing her sight. He guessed a bit of both. “A name for the ledger?”

He offered her a warm smile. “Beauchamp. Lambert Beauchamp.” She frowned at his name and pushed the ledger to him, in no mood to wait while he spelled it out for her. He scribbled his name and made an inquiry. “Might you have a newspaper from today I could borrow?”

She rummaged in the desk for a moment. “Last week’s Herald.” She shoved the crinkled copy into his hand and he tucked it under his arm as she led him to his room. He felt a bit foolish, but in truth, he was nervous to look - to have it confirmed, in no uncertain terms, that he had traveled back in time. It was obvious, of course. Had been obvious nearly from the moment he woke, his face pressed into the cold, wet grass on the side of the hill. The necklace he’d slipped into his pocket, stolen from his mother’s vast collection of gaudy jewels, a charcoaled smudge where the emerald once sat. The formerly paved road now a gravel track.

The door clicked shut behind him and he sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress springs giving way to his exhausted weight. He pulled the paper out and ran his finger over the date, as if the feel of it under his fingers was needed as confirmation.

_24 January 1918_

_God. The final year of the war._ He couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on his face, born from the giddy reality staring him in the face. “No heading to France just yet then.”

 

* * *

 

**Helsinki**

**Leena’s Bar**

“The worst I’ve seen since working there. Honestly. I can’t close my eyes without seeing this kid. The sound of him trying to breathe. God, it’s scary shit. They’re saying it’s a whole new drug-resistant strain of TB, which is a fucking nightmare in the pods.” Evan shook his head wearily. “Enough of that. I can’t talk about it anymore tonight.”

Julia gave his arm a reassuring squeeze and felt a pang of guilt that she couldn’t commiserate with him anymore, couldn’t really share the burden of that experience the way they once had. They sat in silence for a few minutes, pushing their drinks around the table, leaving trails of condensation. “Moving on, then. What else is new?”

Evan nodded at her drink. “Exactly what I was about to ask. What’s with the tea-totaling? Is it Henry? Is it all the sex you’re having now? Too difficult to get your dominatrix leathers on when you’re drunk?”

Her shoulders shook, and she quickly swallowed her mouthful of ginger beer. “Yes, actually, next time I’m drunk I’ll call you over, so you can help us get all set up. You can be our assistant. I’ll get you a special outfit.”

“I’ll bring my own outfit, thanks. For real, though. I’ve never known you to pass up a whisky.”

She shrugged. “My stomach’s been weird lately, so I’m just playing it safe. Will you forgive me for not being a lush?”

“Just this once.” Evan finished his drink and sat back in his chair, his fingers laced together behind his head. “How is it with you two then? Do I need to lose weight for my bridesmaid dress?”

A broad grin spread across her face. “Tease me all you want, but I am deliriously happy. Madly in love. Disgustingly, embarrassingly smitten. Will that do?” 

He leaned forward and slapped his palms on the table. “Yes, that will do. Thank you for admitting what all the world can see. You’re practically glowing.” His smile fell as he took her in and quietly asked, “How are you dealing with the Clearance stuff?”

Evan was one of two people in her life who knew about Henry, the other being Quentin. And he was the first, besides Henry, to ask her how she felt about having to live, to some degree, in secrecy. It had been difficult, more than she’d anticipated. Not always - most days she felt completely normal with him, eating together at home, discussing their days, folding laundry, spending all evening trying to agree on something to watch together until it’s too late to watch anything. But other days were painful and humiliating. Getting tickets to the orchestra in completely different sections of the theater. Hiding her face outside his apartment. Watching him dress for a holiday party with co-workers and agreeing to not wait up for him as he’ll likely be late. Hidden away, his awful secret.

“It’s strange, and not always great. But, I think, over time, we will be able to...come out. It’s not unheard of.” She hated how pathetic it sounded. Evan gave her a reassuring nod and said nothing, to his credit. She stretched her arms above her head and yawned. “I should go. I’m exhausted.”

They walked together a few blocks, the winter wind against their backs. Evan pulled Julia into a warm embrace. “I’m happy for you, Jules.”

“Thank you, Ev.” She held him tight and gave him a kiss on the cheek before turning up the street toward Henry’s.

 

* * *

 

**Infinity Apartments**

In the week since he’d discovered the details about what his work project truly entailed, Henry had been unable to determine his course of action. He couldn’t just let this go. To be complicit in such a violation horrified him. And yet, who could he go to? He had no power, no authority. To even question this could get his Clearance revoked. And Julia - he’d not told her of his new assignment and he couldn’t imagine telling her what was really going on. Still, _not_ telling her felt something like lying to her, a sin of omission. He felt utterly trapped.

He shut off the monitor when he heard the front door and leaned back to peer down the hall. Julia hung up her peacoat and a slow smile spread on her face at the sight of his head peeking around the corner. She walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he sat in the chair, nuzzling her cheek against the top of his head.

“How was your day, Mr. Beauchamp?”

Henry placed his hands over hers on his chest. “Long. Exhausting. How is Evan?”

“He’s fine. Some rough stuff lately. But it was a good chat.”

Henry swung his legs to the side and pulled her onto his lap, kissing her neck. “Are you feeling better?”

“Mmmm...not really. I think I’m fighting something. My body’s just tired and sensitive to everything right now. No making out tonight unless you want my germs.”

He chuckled against her skin. “Are there germs on your neck?”

Julia laughed lightly and let her body relax against his. “I’m going to bed. If I sit here another minute, you’ll have to carry me.” She kissed the top of his ear and made her way to the bathroom to wash up.

They’d both been working so hard lately, only seeing each other in the evenings for a short while until sleep claimed them. It felt like time had begun to speed up. Henry didn’t care for it at all. He spoke a little louder, so she could hear him over the running water. “Love, I was thinking it would be nice for you and I to get out of here, maybe get a cabin in the middle of nowhere and sit in a sauna until we melt. This winter air is probably why you’re not feeling good.”

Julia leaned out the doorway, a toothbrush dangling between her lips. “Mmhm. Yesh pleash.”

“You’ve got time off available, right? I was thinking maybe leave Thursday night if you can take Friday off. Make a long weekend of it.”

The water ran for a few seconds and stopped. She stepped out into the hall. “Nuts. That won’t work. I’ve got an appointment on Friday. Maybe the next week though. I’ll share my calendar with you and you can see if there are dates that work for us both, okay?”

“Well, what’s your appointment for? Is it really important or something you could maybe reschedule?”

Julia shuffled sleepily down the hall to the bedroom where she began undressing. He heard her answer, muffled through her sweater being pulled over her head. “Women stuff. The joys of the female body.”

Henry found himself standing in the bedroom doorway, not having recalled how he got there. His father had often told him when he was young to trust his instincts. He couldn’t ignore them even if he’d wanted to in this moment. A fluttering in his stomach urged him to inquire. “Just a... like an annual visit? Just a normal check-up kind of thing?”

She slipped one of his old t-shirts over her head and sat on the edge of the bed. “I don’t know. My normal clinic told me a couple months ago they couldn’t keep all of their patients due to budget cuts and they referred me to this new one. I went in to the new one to get registered and sign off on transferring my records. Then a few days ago they called me and said they need me to come back in because of some oddities they’d noticed in my bloodwork and test samples from the old clinic.”

Henry’s hands were tightly fisted, his knuckles scratching painfully against the door frame. “Oddities?”

She leaned back on her hands and sighed. “See, I didn’t want to tell you because I know you’re such a worrier and honestly there’s nothing to worry about right now. They said there is some kind of pre-cancerous situation and they just want to get a tissue sample, but that it’s _probably nothing_.” She tried to give him a reassuring look when emphasizing those last two words. “Honestly, I’m amazed they’re doing this at all. You probably don’t realize this, but people at my Grade don’t usually get a whole lot in the way of preventative care. This feels luxurious.”

Henry sat on the bed next to her and laced his fingers through hers, willing himself to calm. “I have to tell you about a project I’ve been assigned.”

“Henry. I don’t want you to get in trouble. You don’t need to tell me anything.”

His head shook, not in negation of her statement, but in a helpless acknowledgement that a vise was around the two of them, their lives in the grip of something much bigger than them. He told Julia about the harvesting, without the consent of the subjects, of the second phase of fertilization of those ova, and of the third phase where he believed they may be growing the babies in the lab for adoption by wealthy High Grades. As he talked, she made no comment, her eyes boring a hole in the floor between her feet.

After a minute of silence, she spoke. “Did you just need to get this off your chest? I don’t blame you - it’s awful. Or is there something more?”

“Yes. The reason they are giving women for why they need to come in to the clinics is for a pre-cancer screening.”

She had listened to him, could hear the worry and pain. But the words themselves set off in her a burning anger at him for dredging this up, for dragging her into his secret, ugly world she wanted nothing to do with. Julia stood and let go of us his hand, walking around the bed to the window. She wore her anger in the rigidity of her frame, arms crossed protectively over her middle. “I hardly think they would bother with me considering my inability to procreate, Henry. I don’t...why are you doing this when you know what I’ve been through?”

She felt outside of herself, hearing her voice cracking as she teetered on the edge. Julia watched his reflection in the window as he stood and turned to her, but did not approach. Quietly, he spoke. “Being infertile does not necessarily mean you don’t have viable eggs.” It was her turn to shake her head now. She rested her forehead on the window, so exhausted and overwhelmed by everything he’d said. The window fogged with her breath, blurring the streetlights in her vision. A flash of vertigo sent her swaying. Julia took a deep, calming breath and was hit with a wave of nausea. Dropping to her knees, she crawled to the wastebasket on the side of the bed and hung her head over it. A horrible combination of minty toothpaste and ginger beer came up, stinging her throat.

Julia was vaguely aware of Henry, crouched behind her, one hand on her back, the other tucking her hair behind her ear, and his voice, a droning song of apology. She wiped her hand across her mouth and sat with her back against the bed, stretching her legs before her. Tears welled in her eyes as she rested her hands on her stomach. And a peace settled over her as she heard her body’s secret whispering to her, through her nausea, her exhaustion, her sensitivity, and unpredictable emotions of the last few weeks. _I am here._

* * *

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julia's pregnant, Henry has a meeting that doesn't go as he expected, a major decision will need to be made.

**Infinity Apartments**

 

Henry ran to the kitchen and got a glass of water and a washcloth for Julia who remained on the floor of the bedroom, slumped against the edge of the bed. He returned and sat down beside her, tucking her under his arm.  She gulped the cool water down and sighed, the nausea seeming to have passed. 

“Better?”

“Mmm..yes. Thank you.”

He didn’t quite know what to say, wishing not to upset her again, but feeling certain she couldn’t go to that appointment. And what was this sickness about? He was so tired of feeling helpless. “We can get opinions from other doctors. Maybe get your records released and take them to a few different clinics to see if this is really something to be concerned about. And if you’re sick, you should wait until you’re better before going in to see anyone, don’t you think? I know, I sometimes overre-”

“-Henry.” She pulled his arm away and sat forward, rotating her body to face him. His face was creased with lines of tension and worry, so she leaned forward and kissed him lightly, fully aware no one wants to be kissed by someone who has just vomited. But the kiss did quiet him for a moment, which was all she needed. “I don’t think I’m sick.” His eyebrows furrowed. “Can you do something for me?” He nodded. “Can you run to the pharmacy down the street and pick up a pregnancy test?”

Mouth agape, his eyes searched her face for a hint that she was joking, but found only her sincere, unguarded eyes, with a hint of fear pulling her brows together.

“You’re serious?”

“I definitely would not joke about this.”

“I’ll be right back.” 

Ten minutes later he dumped out seven different tests onto the dining room table. Julia grabbed two and hurried off to the bathroom. He stood outside the door, waiting for what felt like hours, but was surely only a few minutes. When she opened the door, he started to ask and stopped, as soon as he saw her face, coated in tears streaming down over her enormous smile.

Henry pulled her to him and kissed her soundly. She clung to him, climbed him until her legs were wrapped around his waist. His lips did not leave hers as he carried her to the bedroom, laid her down, and with each bit of skin revealed, he placed a reverent kiss, grateful to whatever force in the universe had brought them together. She gasped as his fingers closed around her nipple. “Does that hurt?”

“A little.”

He wondered, as his mouth traversed her body, what it must feel like for her to know there was a life growing inside her. That what they were doing now, their joining, their love and desperation and hope, had created another person. They came together quietly, swallowing each other’s breaths, eyes locked, needing to know the other was with them for every second from here on out.

Julia fell asleep in his arms, too tired to bother cleaning up. Henry looked at the lines of her face and tried to imagine a child, looking like her, and something of him. Tried to imagine her wild curls, his ears that pointed just a bit at the top, her golden eyes. Settling against her on his side, he placed his hand on her stomach and whispered into her curls spilling over the pillow, “There’s the three of us now.”

 

* * *

 

 

**Inverness, Scotland**

**1918**

 

Mrs. MacDonald proved a rather useful contact for the few days Lambert stayed in Inverness, pointing him to a jeweler who took possession of the gold rings he’d taken from his mother, in exchange for a nice bit of cash to get him started. She also sent him off to hop a train to Edinburgh with the name of her history professor son who, she assured him, would be delighted to entertain him.

Quentin had chosen Lambert to use as a first name in the 20th century partly because he wanted to start fresh and a new name felt a good step in that direction, but also because he’d always thought Lambert an oddly old-fashioned name and likely an acceptable fit in 1918. It took all of two hours in Edinburgh before he’d earned the nickname of Lamb and was taken under the wing of one Professor Alastair MacDonald who, while somewhat inebriated, seemed a reliable enough sort and was quite interested to hear Lamb’s take on archaeological methods and ideas.

Historians in particular had all sorts of access to records and friends who worked in government record-keeping and within a week Lamb had managed to forge enough documents to apply for a new birth certificate for himself. Alastair took such a liking to Lambert that he devised a trip for the two of them down to Liverpool where he’d arranged to introduce him to some fellows he knew there who were quite interested in archaeology.

And so it was that one Lambert Beauchamp, born in a small village in the north of England in 1868, became a visiting expert in the practice of Archaeology and Egyptology at the University of Liverpool in 1918.

* * *

 

 

**Ministry Health Administration**

**Helsinki**

 

Henry had requested two separate meetings with Maria, both of which were rescheduled for weeks from now. He had rehearsed conversations in his head in which he’d casually bring up the egg donors and gauge her reaction and then they’d discuss the data and success rates of fertilization and perhaps he’d mention how wonderful it would be if they could take it a step further. Did she think it possible to actually grow babies without surrogates? And she would say, “Well Henry, we are doing just that.”

And then what? What in the world did he think he could do with that confession? A rat stuck in a maze. His wristlight blinked with a message from Julia.

**Julia:** I’m going to run to my apartment after work and grab some things to bring to your place. Our place? Can I say that now?

**Henry:** It is our place so yes, you should say that now. And at the risk of sounding like an overbearing MAN, please be careful to not lift anything too heavy. Sorry, I had to.

**Julia:** How about if I promise not to lift with my uterus?

**Henry:** You’re horrible. Have you found anyone to sublet until your lease is up?

**Julia:** I didn’t get many bites - turns out Tilkka isn’t the hippest of neighborhoods, but I think I have a lead with one of Evan’s friends.

**Henry:** Good. See you later. I love you.

**Julia:** Love you too.

 

Henry’s monitor flashed with a new message.

**Maria:** I need to meet with you before you leave today. My schedule is clear in 30.

Well, then. That left 25 minutes for more mental rehearsal. Henry settled on a few different options, depending on the mood in the room, and made his way to Maria’s office with a few minutes to spare. The door was slightly ajar, the windows dimmed to opacity. He entered after a soft knock and Maria met him with an easy smile. She gestured to an open chair and as he made his way to it, he saw they were not alone. Ava Dornan was leaning casually against the arm of a chair in the corner of the room, her fingers twisting twin gold necklaces.

Maria shut the door behind him and settled behind her desk. “Henry, glad you could make it. Ava and I have been discussing the project and we thought it would be great to pull you in to get some insight from you. I’ve seen your analysis reports, but I was hoping to get a little more off-the-cuff. It’s so easy to get tunnel vision with your own work and miss the bigger picture, right?”

Henry nodded and smiled, glancing over to Ava whose smile had the polished insincerity of upper management. “Of course. I’ve been thinking a great deal about the project. What’s working, what we could improve, where to look next. In fact, I-”

Maria’s monitor beeped, and she snapped her head to it, holding up a finger to halt his comment while she read the message. “Dammit. I’m sorry both of you. I’ve got to run up to meet with the director right now. There’s always some crisis, right? Ava, do you think you could stay and chat with Henry and just take some notes for me.”

“Of course.”

Maria gathered a few papers into a pile and paused at the door. “It’s just so hard to find the time to meet.”

Ava held up her hand and shook her head. “It’s no trouble. Go put out some fires.” As the door clicked shut behind her, Ava took a seat in Maria’s desk, casually leaning back as if this was her own office. She had a way of owning every environment she entered.

Henry waited for her to say something and felt increasingly uncomfortable with each silent second that passed. He cleared his throat to pick up where he’d left off, but she interrupted him.

“Henry.” Ava’s face transformed from the blank mask of business to a predatory gleam, her smile widening across her face, but falling well short of her eyes. “You have some big news you’d like to share?”

A pin drop. A record scratch. A glass falling to the floor in slow motion. The sound of his own heart thundering in his chest. Every cliché of dramatic effect played itself out for him as he blinked back at her. He had been right from the beginning. She was toying with him, a cat lazily batting at a mouse. He said nothing. Waited for her move. The mockery of a smile slowly faded from her face.

“I think you might have some misconceptions about what Clearance is about, Henry. First, make no mistake, this is a privilege. Sometimes when you grow up in it, you forget that. Second, you need to be able to look at the big picture. You are a very tiny speck in that picture. Right now you’re trying to come up with what my angle is for mentioning your impending fatherhood. There is no angle. Only _one_ of us is being honest right now, Henry.  I like your family. I’ve known them for a long time. Maybe that’s why I’m being so generous with you.”

“Generous?”

“There are people in this building who would have you imprisoned for what you’ve done. They would not hesitate to dangle Julia over you with threats to keep you in line. So yes, I am being generous by giving you a chance.”

The chance encounter at the market. The chance encounter on the labs floor. Were there eyes on him always? Following him across the street at night to buy pregnancy tests? How would she know the result? His body flushed with rage and humiliation and a rising panic. He shook his head incredulously. “I’m supposed to believe you aren’t threatening me right now?”

Ava leaned forward on her elbows, tucking her hair behind her ear.  “I will be very clear with you. What you perceive as deception is precisely the opposite. Clearance only works with complete transparency. You have been hiding your relationship. You have been pretending to support this new project when, in fact, you are quite disturbed by it because you went digging for information that was not meant for you. And the fact that you are deceiving us with two very important matters in your life sets off some serious alarms that you may be deceiving us about things we have not yet discovered or, that you would be willing to do so in the future, neither of which is acceptable. And if you think for a second that there aren’t 100 people in the Ministry who are aware of _my_ every thought and move, you’d be mistaken. Which means I cannot be the only one who knows these things. As I am the one who approved your Clearance, it would reflect quite badly on me should you prove to be a liability. So...we have a bit of a problem. And I am the only person who can keep your world from crashing down.”

She was a snake, slowly coiling herself around him, and he was paralyzed, left only to watch it play out. “What do you want me to do?”

“You’re going to do a phenomenal job on this project. It will be successful, and you will be rewarded for your part. And, you are going to create some distance between you and Julia.”

He began to protest, and Ava held her hand up to silence him.

“These sorts of relationships require a great deal of trust on our part and you have not yet earned that trust. It seems now is not a good time in your life to take on the duties of being a new parent. Julia is fairly new in her promotion as well. I would think she’d be rather reluctant to give that up and start over. Unless she wishes to give the baby up for adoption, of course. I’d be happy to help with that. Babies are in high demand, as you well know. It could be extremely lucrative and very good for your career to go that route.”

“What...what are you saying?”

Ava stood and walked around the desk to stand before Henry, smooth and unhurried. She waited for him to tilt his head back to look at her before she spoke. “It’s certainly exciting news to find out you’re able to have children, especially considering the project we’re working on, how so many others are not as fortunate as you. And perhaps the most exciting part of this is that you now know you can have more children, should you wish to have some when the timing is more...appropriate.”

He had no words, no utterance that could convey the cold fear spreading through his gut. He closed his eyes for a moment, unable to escape her face looming over him. He felt his wristlight buzz and when he opened them and touched the screen, his heart lodged in his throat.

**Helsinki Hospital:** Emergency Contact for Julia Moriston - please tap for more info

He leapt from his chair and imagined for a second how it would feel to swing his fist at her, lay her out before he stormed away from this nightmare. She looked at his blinking wristlight with preternatural calm, as if that message was as expected as every move he’d made since meeting her. Perhaps it was. He turned and left without a word.

Henry ran out into the plaza and aimed straight for the tram but stopped short when he saw it was crammed with rush hour workers heading home. The thought of squeezing into that mass of humanity and slowly ambling toward his destination was unbearable. Six blocks. He’d run it. He took off down the sidewalk, dodging people and eliciting exclamations of concern. His mind drowned it all out, imagining every awful scenario he could. He ran up the ambulance drive and bolted through the ER doors as they opened to let a man in a wheelchair through. He opened the message on his wristlight and scanned it at the entry, confirming his identity and allowing him entry. Once inside, an older woman dressed in scrubs stuck a small sticker to his wrist, some kind of security badge. She checked her tablet for his information.

“You’re here for…?”

“Julia...Mor..Moriston.” He hadn’t quite gotten his breath back yet.

“Oh right, she’s just down here. She was quite dehydrated. We’re pumping in some fluids and it sounds like she’ll be ready to go soon.”

He was deposited outside a small room, barely big enough for a bed, but private. Julia was propped up in the bed, looking pale and weary. An IV drip hung by her side. Whatever magic was holding him together released entirely at the sight of her and he swallowed a sob. Her tired smile shot straight into his heart.

“Hey.”

He half-sat on the edge of the bed and cupped her cheek, leaning down to kiss her forehead. She smelled of dried sweat and antiseptic and hospital soap. “What happened to you? Are you okay? Is the...is everything okay?” He couldn’t bring himself to say the word.

She grimaced. “I’m okay.” Julia pushed herself up in the bed, careful not to disturb the IV line.

Henry steadied himself. “Tell me what happened.”

Julia nodded weakly, letting her head fall back against the pillow. “I’d stopped at the apartment to get some things, like I said I would. I’d just left and was about a block away when I was hit with this horrible nausea. Not like...the morning sickness. It was so quick and brutal; my whole body was just shaking. I got to a cafe and threw up in the bathroom, but it wouldn’t stop and they called an ambulance for me. I’m pretty sure I shit myself in the ambulance, but I was so scared of what was happening I didn’t care. I…” She couldn’t hold back the tears anymore and Henry squeezed her hand and brushed his thumb over her cheeks, shushing and muttering assurances. “I didn’t want to be alone if something happened.”

He searched her eyes, wishing he didn’t have to ask. “Did-”

Julia pulled a small paper out from under a tray on the table. She held it up to him, a formless image in black and white. ”She’s fine. I’m calling her a she. I’ve decided. She’s a bit of a blob right now, but a healthy blob, a blob with a heartbeat. I recorded her heartbeat on my wristlight. Do you want to hear it?”

He stared at the image. Their blob. “Yes. Of course.” She played the recording and he was shocked by the sound, not imagining it would be so rapid, a strange rhythmic whoosh of an impossibly tiny heart working frantically to keep this tiny creature alive. He brought Julia’s hand to his face, the recording vibrating through their skins. He knew in that moment what he had to do. What _they_ would have to do.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry and Julia must flee and escape the long arm of the Ministry. They head to Scotland to attempt to find Quentin.

**Helsinki**

 

Julia was discharged from the hospital within the hour and Henry arranged for a car to take them back to his apartment, not wanting her to exert herself. His mind was reeling with the events of the last couple hours. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and close his eyes, shutting out his reality for a few moments. As beautiful as it was to hear his child’s heartbeat, he couldn’t escape the clouds darkening their sky. Henry had to remind himself that these decisions were not his to make alone. He whispered to her in the back seat of the car, hoping this at least was safe. The words were a rush and probably made little sense, but the way she gripped his hand told him she understood. “We need to pack some small bags, one for each of us to carry. “Is there anything left at your old apartment that you can’t live without?”

She stared out the window, not seeing anything, and shook her head. “Where will we go?” 

“Do you think we still have access to my brother’s place? Do you know if someone else is there?”

She turned to Henry. “I... I don’t know. I mean, he never said anything about what he would do with the place. He never mentioned what he’d do with all his things if he left. It’s worth a shot to check.”

“I’m going to stop and an ATM on the way. It’s risky, but…” She nodded, and they fell quiet, the reality of their situation slowly settling over them. They returned to the apartment and left the lights low, only whispering to each other when necessary. He grabbed a duffel bag and a backpack, and they stuffed them with clothes, passports, and toiletries. “Anything valuable you have - jewelry, rings, anything we might be able to trade - we should bring.”

Julia retrieved a small drawstring bag from her belongings and pulled out a ring that she slipped onto her finger - a tiny amethyst set in a gold flower. Ari had given it to her years ago but working as a nurse didn’t lend itself well to such adornments. Henry opened a small case tucked in the back of his dresser. He’d gotten the ring as part of his membership in an elite club in college and slipping it on his finger now, he found it looked as obnoxious as ever - a triton with three diamonds embedded in each prong. He closed the drawer and considered what else they might need. Or might need to leave behind. “We can’t take our wristlights.”

It was silly to lament the loss of the recorded heartbeat, but Julia’s face hardened as she nodded and started to remove hers. He caught her hand and held her wrist. “We’ll hear her heartbeat again soon. We’ll find a clinic in Scotland, or wherever we end up, okay? She’s coming with us.” He attempted a reassuring smile and she reflected it back at him, unconsciously touching her stomach as he removed her wristlight and set it on the table next to his.

He stopped to look back at the apartment one last time before pulling the door shut behind him, his mind taking a snapshot, knowing this might be the last time he saw it.

They took the tram to Quentin’s neighborhood near the university, speaking low in each other’s ears, hoping the hum and rattle would be loud enough to muffle their words. “Do you know where in Scotland he might have gone?”

“North. The Highlands. He said he wanted to explore more there.”

“Okay. We’ll see what we can find at his place. Hopefully something to narrow it down.”

Quentin had lived his life on his own terms, carving out his space, and when that space started to cave in on him, he disappeared. If anyone could help Henry and Julia now, it was him. Henry hoped they would find some record of how Quentin had managed his own escape, and should they be fortunate enough to find him, that he might provide sanctuary for them. They both let out sighs of relief as Quentin’s apartment door beeped and clicked open after Julia typed in the code and scanned her hand. He had, as they suspected, left everything. Julia immediately went to his desk, thumbing through papers and books. “When I was last here, he kept looking at his desk. Maybe there’s something here about where he planned to go.”

Henry had gone to the bedroom to look through the bedside drawer, which contained no fewer than 20 small scraps of paper with Quentin’s chicken-scratch writing. He spread them out on the bed and started to decipher them. Most seemed to be related to digs he’d been on, ideas about specimen use and dates, appointments. One piece of paper was folded up into a small square. As he smoothed it out, he found its information a bit stranger than the others. The fact that it mentioned a Scottish city caught his attention.

_Craigh na Dun -- 7 mi E Inverness_

_Gemstones (mother?)_

_Safe dates: 1 Feb, 19+ Mar, 1 May, 20+ Jun, 1 Aug, 21+ Sep, 1 Nov, 20+ Dec_  

He found Julia perched on the edge of the desk chair, flipping through old journals. Henry slid the wrinkled paper in front of her. “Does this make any sense to you? Inverness is in northern Scotland, so I thought it might be a possibility, but I don’t know what the rest of it is about.”

She slumped back in the chair, her face tightly drawn. “Oh.” She let out a breath and looked up at Henry, who was leaning forward expectantly, his hands braced on the desk. “Yes, I think I know what this might be.” She chewed on her lip, concentrating on conjuring the memory. “His last expedition was to Scotland. And when he got back we went out and we’d gone for a walk along the canal and he told me about these old journals he found, from the 20th century. 1960s I want to say.  He was hesitant to talk about them because they mentioned these standing stones and how if you touched them around certain times of the year you would...travel back in time.” Henry’s brows rose, and he straightened, feeling frustrated at getting his hopes up.

Julia sat forward, her face wrinkled in concentration, trying to remember their conversation. “I think this Craigh place might be where the stones are. I know it sounds ridiculous, but if you’d heard how he talked about it...there was genuine fear in his voice. He said the stones seemed to pull at him, there was some kind of noise, and it freaked him out enough that he ran away. You know it’s not like Q to be superstitious. Something like this… He wouldn’t be able to stay away. I wouldn’t be surprised if he went back to learn more about it.”                    

Henry ran a hand through his hair and rolled his shoulders. “Christ. Time travel?” He sat down in the armchair opposite the desk and stretched his legs out before him, a small smile forming. “Did you know he used to wrap me up in toilet paper when I was little and have me pretend to be a mummy? I’d walk into the office at home where my parents were always working, and I’d have my arms out, moaning, walking all stiffly, and they’d just glance at me and say, ‘Quentin, stop tormenting your little brother!’” Julia cupped her hand over her mouth and started giggling. Henry joined in and their laughter cleared away the clouds for a few moments, giving them space to breathe again. “I think we go to Inverness.”

Julia nodded eagerly at his suggestion. “How do you propose we get there? Do you think we can fly or will that be too easy for them to follow us?”

“We don’t fly - too easy for them to track us. Too much security to get through. If we’re lucky, they won’t notice we’re gone for a few days and then we stick to trains, buses, boats...whatever works to keep us off the radar.”

Julia folded the tiny note and put it in her pants pocket. “Okay. I think we stay north and get to Norway. Then we just need to get across the North Sea, which sounds less than appealing, but we don’t have much of a choice.”

“Totally unappealing, but there are lots of fishing and commercial vessels and I’d wager we can get passage with little fuss and a fistful of cash. Stavanger would be closest for boats to Scotland.”

“So, we ferry to Stockholm, hop a train to Oslo, another train to Stavanger, find a boat to Inverness. It’s going to take a while, but it’ll keep us moving.”

 

* * *

 

**Stavanger, Norway**

It took them four days to get to Stavanger. Julia was still working through the exhaustion of early pregnancy, and they needed to spend a night in Stockholm and another in Oslo. Neither could bear the thought of how the stress of their situation might adversely affect the pregnancy. At least the nausea had begun to subside. And with each day, the risk of miscarriage lessened.

Henry picked up a cheap unlocked wristlight in Oslo to help them navigate travel and monitor news feeds. So far, he’d heard nothing to alarm him, so they began their search for a boat to Inverness. It wasn’t possible to reach many of the port freight line offices without security clearance, so they started out in the less touristy pubs near the port. Three pubs in, they found their match. Henry had casually mentioned to the bartender that his wife was pregnant and had a phobia of flying. They needed to get to Inverness to see her family, but he didn’t want to upset her by forcing her on a plane.

The bartender, a rotund and cheery man who looked near retirement age, shook his head and made some sympathetic noises at Henry’s story. “Oh, that is quite unfortunate. My wife had such a rough go of it when she was pregnant with our first, sick all the time.”

Henry nodded. “She’s had a fair bit of that, as well. I’m sure she’ll feel a good deal better once we get to her family.”

“Well, I can’t say I know of any commercial freighters who would take on passengers. Most captains are too paranoid about their cargo. But, if you’re not opposed to a different kind of ride, I do know a fellow with a good-sized boat who might be amenable to chartering you there. And well - it sounds a bit wrong to say it - but his wife died a long time ago, when the flu was taking everyone. She’d just had a baby and he was left to raise her alone. I think your story would...speak to him.”

Martin Johansson met them at Pier 17, his boat being a rather formidable fishing vessel, much to Henry and Julia’s relief. The thought of spending three days on a small craft being tossed about in the North Atlantic would not be good for either of them, but especially Julia. Martin was quiet, his mouth hidden somewhere under an untamed beard which had turned mostly grey. He gave them a tour of the boat, pointing at different sections using one-word descriptions, then brought them back up top and sat on a bench near the stern. “I’ll hear your story now.”

As Henry told their story, Martin nodded here and there, but didn’t speak. When Henry had finished, Martin merely held his hand out, told him how much it would cost to fuel the boat, and asked if that was agreeable. Julia sighed in relief at the reasonable rate he quoted. It was obvious the man had a soft spot for pregnant women. Henry accepted, and they made plans to meet the next morning to set out for Scotland.

Two and a half days if the weather held. That was their expected duration on the boat. It held, for a day. A storm rolled through on the second day. Martin, who’d said little to them by then, merely pointed to the cabin. “Put on your life jackets just in case but stay inside. I’ll get us through.”

Henry and Julia huddled in the cabin, hanging onto handles attached to the walls, while the boat heaved and dropped from impossible heights for what felt like hours. Julia lost the battle to control her nausea first and Henry followed shortly thereafter.

When Martin entered the cabin after the waves started to die down, he found them quite a bit worse for wear, but relieved to see him. He handed them bottled water and leaned against the wall, exhausted and dripping with salt water. “I don’t know what kind of trouble you’re running from, but I hope you get where you need to go so you’ll have a good, dramatic tale to tell when all’s done. My late wife, Elizabeth, would have liked you both, I think. And that baby of yours will be sure to have sea legs. You tell her how she got them some day. Tell her Captain Johansson was there, eh?”

He had apparently used up his verbal allotment as they didn’t hear much from him again until the next morning when he yelled for them to gather their belongings as they’d be in the harbor at Inverness within a few hours. The storm had done them a favor, giving them a mighty push in the right direction.  

* * *

 

**Inverness, Scotland**

There weren’t many options as far as eluding security upon entrance, so they handed their passports over and crossed their fingers that they wouldn’t be found out. They were ushered through and hopped onto transport into the central part of the town, looking for a place to stay for the night to rest and eat before beginning their search for Quentin.

Julia bee-lined for an inn showing vacancy, not caring about the quality of the place at this point, only that there be a bed and warm water. They both bathed, changed into fresh clothes, and sent the rest of their clothes for washing. Food came by way of a pub one street down. “I have no idea what we ordered because I honestly couldn’t tell what that bartender was saying but this is the best meal I’ve ever had.”

Henry laughed and agreed. “I think this may be a common sentiment amongst the recently near-shipwrecked. But yes, this plate full of brown food is incredibly good.”

She set down her spoon and leaned forward in the booth, talking quietly. “What if we can’t find him? Our money will run out soon enough.” 

“If we’re careful, we’ve got enough for six weeks. After that we start looking for work. Scotland has always been an outlier, a bit off-the-books, so I think we can get work without official IDs temporarily. If we find the right people, we can find out how to get new IDs and stay away from Ministry scrutiny.”

“I know. I’m just...terrified.” She nervously laughed, the strain showing on her face.

Henry held his hand out and she set hers in his. “I’m terrified too, but Julia - I know this sounds silly - but I feel like we’re supposed to be here. When we got into this town, I just felt like this was right. We made it through that storm and we’re supposed to be here. Things are going to work. I believe it.”

 

* * *

 

A week of chatting up bartenders and hotel staff left Henry and Julia feeling deflated and increasingly edgy. Julia wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck to keep out the brisk coastal wind. “Was it ridiculous of us to think we could just find him?”

Henry draped an arm around her shoulder as they strolled through an empty park, most people headed home or out for their evening meal. “Maybe. I’m not giving up yet. There are plenty of places we can still inquire. Lots of people who are out and about normally who might have seen him. I still can’t believe you accosted that mime.”

“Well, it’s not like mimes _can’t_ talk. I mean, there could be mute mimes, but I don’t think it’s a rule. In any case, he didn’t have to be such a dick about it.”

Henry chuckled and squeezed her shoulder. “All mimes are dicks.”

“I know.”

The sun was retreating below the crest of a hill, drawing long shadows from benches and stone pillars, darkening their path. Julia tucked a hand into her pants pocket to warm it and felt the crumbled bit of paper they’d swiped from Quentin’s apartment. The paper that led them here. Henry had said he felt like they were supposed to be here, like something had guided them to this place and she knew he meant something more than some scribbles on a note. They’d known each other for just a few months and their lives had been upended dramatically, like some cosmic being had carelessly knocked the pawns in the game askew, sending them on a new path.

“Sound good?”

She’d completely missed what he’d been saying. “Sorry, I was stuck in my head. What are you asking?”

He smiled affectionately and pulled her against him, burying his face in her hair and pressing his cold nose against her neck. “I said I think we should get some soup to warm us up and then go back to the room and come up with a plan for tomorrow. Good?”

“Mmhm.”

Two hours later Julia lay sated on the bed, her head nestled against Henry’s shoulder, lazily drawing lines on his stomach. Henry pulled away slightly and turned on his side to look at her.

“I can hear you thinking. You’re always quiet when you’re cooking something up in your head.”

She reached behind her to the bedside table and pulled the paper out from under a plate. “I’m positive that he would have gone to this stone place, Henry. You know he would have. I think we need to find out where it is and go there. Maybe there’s a place nearby he would have stopped, someone who might have encountered him.”

He took the paper from her and turned it around with his fingers, not really looking at it, but considering her words. “Okay. We’ll ask downstairs tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh aye. I know of the faerie hill. It’s a couple hours of walking so you might want transport. If you won’t be gone too long a car would be yer best option.”

Henry had gone out to the market before Julia woke to get some food they could bring with into the countryside. On a whim he’d inquired about the stones with the elderly man perched behind the counter. “Is there anything out there - any other places to visit or shops?”

“Nae, just a few military building out there. Undeveloped. They won’t bother with ye driving through so long as ye steer clear of their buildings along the way. If ye go next week ye might see some folks up there for the solstice.”

Henry, preoccupied with the day’s task, did not pay particular attention to the man’s words, but gathered his goods and thanked him for his help.  

Julia was dressed when he returned to the room. She attacked the pastries he’d returned with and started in on a second cup of tea.

“Hungry?”

She nodded enthusiastically and caught the crumbs falling from her mouth with her cupped hand.

Henry laughed and began packing some food into the interior pockets of his jacket. “I got some pies for later and some dried fruit and nuts. I figure we’ll just bring a canteen of water to share.”

The car was waiting for them when they got to the lobby and they settled into the backseat after confirming their destination for the driving computer. The road wound up into the hills with patches of forest dotting the landscape. The barbed wire fences of the military buildings gave way to rocky outcroppings and a pristine lake with snowy mountains rising in the distance. They stopped in the middle of the road, no turnoff or drive or building in site. With a confirmation that they would require return transport, they exited the car and it proceeded down the road until disappearing over a hill.

Henry pulled his scarf up around his ears while securing his hat in the stiff breeze. “Do you see them?”

“There.” Julia pointed up a hill a short distance from where they stood on the side of the road.  “That’s got to be them.” She began striding toward the hill, grateful she’d worn boots as the recent snow melt left the ground muddy.

Henry surveyed the quiet, wild land around him and called to Julia. “I’m going to follow the road up a bit just to see what’s beyond the rise and then I’ll meet you up there, okay?”

“Okay. See you in a bit. Don’t get lost!” Julia turned away from him and continued up the hill.

The sky was a steel grey from clouds rolling through, but there were patches of blue beyond. Weather was so unpredictable here, but he didn’t think they’d be hit with anything too messy any time soon. It took him just a few minutes to ascend the hill and peer over, only to see the road continue to wind through the land with no sign of buildings or civilization of any kind. A flock of greylag geese took off from the lake and fell into formation as they flew above him and continued over the standing stones hill.

Henry followed their lead and made his way back to the hill. As he ascended and neared the top he yelled for Julia, to see where she’d gone, but his voice was swallowed by a great gust. The wind howled wickedly in his ears and began to take on an irritating pitch, a buzzing that set his teeth on edge. He held his hands over his ears to quiet it, but it echoed louder when he did that, as if the sound was coming from inside his head. Reaching the top of the hill, he walked into the center of the circle, nausea rising in him from the sound. “Julia!” He couldn’t see her. Or hear anything, but the buzzing. “Where are you?!”He fell to his knees and doubled-over, his hat falling from his head onto the wet earth. His fingers sunk into the mud, grasping at anything to anchor himself, and only one thought raced through his mind. _She’s gone._  



	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the 20th century, kids.

**1918**

**Craigh Na Dun**

Julia scrambled to her feet and ran as soon as she woke. Light-headed and confused, she careened down the hill as if a ghost were chasing her, the wailing voices from the stones receding with each step. _Henry._ She whirled around and found no sign of him. Perhaps he was still on the road. The road. Gravel crunched under her feet and she froze.

When she touched the stone, it had felt like a churning swell, pulling her under and raking her across the bottom of the ocean, jagged coral tearing her apart. Then a confused floating in no direction, as tendrils snaked around her, filling her body and pulling in all directions. The screams were loudest then, when she felt trapped in the void, torn asunder. It had felt like hours, but it couldn’t have been, or she’d be standing in darkness now, whenever she was.

Her mind began to settle and accept what had happened. Had Henry followed her? Would he have known what she’d done when he got to the hill and she was gone? Her panic propelled her back up the hill to the stones. The buzzing still filled her ears, but she stepped carefully into the circle, holding her arms tight around herself.

There. Sprawled on his stomach just outside the circle. She dropped to her knees and pushed him onto his back. “Henry!” After checking his pulse, she shook him repeatedly with no response. A pinch to his arm did the trick.  He sputtered awake, adrenalin shooting through him and sending him to his feet, knocking Julia back onto the wet ground. “Henry! I’m here!”

He spun around and fell to his knees, breaths coming in gasps and eyes unfocused. “Are you okay? Are you okay?” His hands grasped her face tightly, like she could keep him from drifting away.

“We need to get off this hill.” She gripped his hand tightly and pulled him with her down to the gravel road and waited for him to get his bearings.

He looked to the muddy road below his feet and back at her face. “What happened? What is going on here?”

“I think...we traveled. I don’t know when, but we’re not in our time. The road is different. Everything is different.”

“Jesus.” Henry pulled her to his chest and they clung to each other, synchronizing their breathing to a calmer pace. She pushed away after a minute, realizing that his wet jacket was soaking into her. “Do you think Quentin is here? That he came through the stones?”

“If it worked for him, maybe. Yes.

Julia looked back at the stones. “I don’t want to go back through them, Henry. It was so awful...And I don’t know...the baby…” She was coming down from the rush of what had happened, and she felt exhaustion seep into her bones. Her emotions bubbled to the surface, no inner strength left to keep them at bay. “I can’t…”

Henry gathered her hands in his and breathed into them, warming her numb fingertips. “Let’s find out where... _when_ we are. Let’s walk to Inverness and maybe Quentin will be holed up in the nearest pub telling tall tales.”

The light had mostly gone by the time they reached the edges of the town a couple hours later. They began hazarding guesses as to the year with each new detail. Henry traced his fingers over the pipes running up from the ground. “Gas lighting, it looks like. When does that put us? When would they have switched to electric?”

Julia scrunched her face and worried her lip in thought. “Early twentieth was the switch, I think, but who knows how long it took to get here. I don’t think we’ve narrowed it down much.” The first car that ambled by helped significantly. It was a strange contraption, open-topped, with large open wheels. The engine produced a shockingly loud noise - certainly not anything they’d associated with cars. “Early twentieth century indeed.”

Inquiring at a pub led them to an inn a few blocks away. Warmth, a room, food. The people seemed different. Less cautious, more openly curious and amiable, the natural result of living a harder life, of needing the goodwill of others. The elderly innkeep patted Julia’s hand and gave her a sympathetic smile which mostly served to show her just how haggard she must look.

Henry put on his most endearing smile and draped his arm over Julia as he spoke to the woman. “I’m afraid my wife and I have had some misfortune in our travels and we don’t have money at the moment, but we do have some valuables. If you know of a place that would trade, we could go there tomorrow if you’d be willing to put us up for the night.”

The woman eyed the rings on their fingers which were a good deal more ostentatious than anything she’d seen before. Henry leaned forward over the counter to speak discreetly. “My wife is with child, you see. I should not want her to suffer in this cold if it can be avoided.”

“Oh dear, no. T’would no’ be Christian of me to turn ye away, would it? We’ve a room for ye. And I’ll get ye off to just the right fella in the ‘morrow. I am Mrs. MacDonald and I’ll make sure ye have what ye need.”

Julia felt curiously guilty at their success, even though the only lie was that of Henry’s claim of being her husband. Misfortune in travels was a bit of an understatement. The woman pulled the ledger out from under the desk and slowly paged through ink-stained pages to an open entry. “Yer name then?”

“Beauchamp. Henry.”

The woman tilted her head and scrunched her face. “Och! Away wi’ ye! Is that so?”

Henry wasn’t quite sure how to answer this strange reaction. “Uh yes, that’s my name.”

“Weel, ye don’t resemble him oe’r much but ye must be Lamb’s kin, aye?”

“Lambskin? I don’t know what that is I’m afraid.”

“Lambert Beauchamp! Oh, my son is quite fond o’ him and I daresay he charmed the lot of us ‘round here. Are ye his cousin perhaps?”

Julia dug her fingers into Henry’s arm. “Quen- Lambert Beauchamp? You know him? Was he here?”

“Aye, last month. Fine storyteller. Traveled all about the world it seemed. I introduced him to my son in Edinburgh and they got on well. Last I’d heard he’d settled in England, teaching, like my Alastair.”

Henry’s face broke out into a wide grin, relief flooding through him. “Ha! Yes, he’s my older brother. We are looking for him so this is quite fortunate.”

Henry and Julia settled in their room after enjoying a meal with Mrs. MacDonald, who filled them in on the details of Quentin’s short stay here and what news she’d learned from her son. The newly-formed archaeology department in Liverpool...it left little doubt. Henry managed to confirm the year with a simple statement that it felt like the war had been going on forever when it had only been...how long?

Julia curled into Henry’s side, pulling the quilt up around her chin. “1918. I don’t even know what to do with that number.”

Henry ran his fingers through her hair, twirling the curls around his fingers. “Could be a lot worse, I suppose. We have to be careful. I don’t know the history of the war that well, but I think it doesn’t really wind down until the end of the year. If we can get to Quentin, hopefully he can get us set up with IDs and work.”

“There’s a devastating flu this year too as I recall. Are we susceptible to it?"

“Shit. I don’t know.” Henry stretched his legs, his toes poking out of the end of the too-short bed. “The thing that really worries me…”

“What?”

“Are we going to have to start calling him Lamb?”

Julia giggled. “Personally, I can’t wait to call him Lamb. My little Lambkins. Lambertini. He’s going to regret going with that name.”

 

* * *

 

The amethyst in Julia’s ring had crumbled to dust in her passage through the stones, as had Henry’s diamonds. The loss of the jewels was especially painful in their current economic predicament, but she was still able to procure enough from the gold band to secure them passage, some new clothing, and a bit for food and shelter. They only exchanged the one bit of jewelry, hoping to get a bit more for Henry’s ring in Edinburgh or Liverpool.

Edinburgh felt shockingly ancient, like they’d gone back far more than 200 years. There were more cars and some electricity, but the feel of the town was solidly affixed to its own past, the heart of defiant Scotland. Alastair proved a helpful guide. They had intended to go straight to Lamb as quickly as they could, but couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get some identification. It turns out Alastair got a bit of a thrill from helping Henry’s brother set up his new life and, while a little suspicious that there would suddenly be two more Beauchamps in need of papers, he also relished the idea of being someone’s secret source.

“What do you say then? Will you marry me?” Julia and Henry were curled up on a rather lumpy and unpredictable couch at Alastair’s apartment, waiting for him to return with documents for them to sign. The afternoon had gone grey and they were trapped inside while a persistent drizzle slickened the cobblestone streets.

Julia stretched her legs across Henry’s and contemplated his proposal. “Well, you _are_ the father of my child. And I’m stuck 200 years in the past with basically no rights as a woman so...I guess it would make sense to hitch myself to your wagon.”

“Dear Mum and Dad, I’ve impregnated a woman and she feels she has no choice but to marry me. I’ve always dreamed of this day. I hope you’re proud of me.” He barely made it through before descending into giggles encouraged by her feet digging into his side.

Their breathing slowed and the sound of the rain hitting the pipe outside the cracked window pulled their attention to the deluge. People ran under awnings, scattering like rodents, as the skies opened up in earnest. Julia sat up and leaned into Henry. “Do you think it’s safe having a baby now? In this time?”

“People had babies all the time then. Now. You know what I mean.”

“They had babies all the time because those babies died all the time. They were constantly making replacement babies. And women died all the time in childbirth.”

Henry sighed and leaned his head on hers, knowing there wasn’t anything he could say. Knowing she was right. And farther back in his mind was the thought that, as much as loved the idea of having a family with her, he wouldn’t risk her life again. One would have to be enough.

 

* * *

 

“Lamb, that is madness! How in the world are you alive? I’ve seen cats who’d kill for your luck.” Harold gnawed on the end of his pipe and pounded his palm on the table, rattling their glasses and startling Rupert, who’d been enjoying an ale-induced nap in the corner of the booth.

Lambert took a sip of whisky and curled his lip in a self-satisfied snarl. “I do have a bit of a nine-lives situation going on, I’ll grant you that. That said, I’d rather avoid close encounters with hungry bears in the future. That sort of excitement tends to shave a few years off one’s life.” He pushed his chair back and patted Harold’s shoulder. “I’d best be off or I’ll end up face down on this table and then you’ll be stuck dragging both of our carcasses out of this place.”

“Your carcass looks a good deal heavier than dear Rupert’s so I thank you for your consideration.”

Lambert dropped some coins on the table and buttoned his coat. The wind had picked up and a cool breeze was rolling up from the docks. His pace quickened as the fresh air woke him and he remembered he had some soup waiting for him back at his flat, dropped off by the rather nosy, but generous older woman next door.

He’d managed to procure a small, but comfortable place a few blocks from his university office and was slowly making it into a home. It had been a whirlwind month, an impossible reality thrust upon him, yet he found himself feeling like he’d finally found his home. This time. This place. It fit.

He rounded the corner and headed up the slightly sloping walk toward his building, stepping gingerly around the old man who made a habit of cleaning the walkway each day only to fall asleep in the midst of his work, wherever he may be. When Lamb lifted his gaze back up toward his door, the world came to a sudden, jolting halt.

Lambert might have thought them ghosts except for the fact that they advanced on him with smiles and arms outstretched and too many words for him to take in. They were solid. And they were here.

“How? My god...how?”

“I imagine the same way you managed, brother.”

Lambert’s knees shook - actually shook. “God, I think I might faint, as ridiculous as that seems. Let’s get inside before everyone on the block decides they need to know what’s happening.”

In the next hour, Henry and Julia shared their story with Lamb. The project and the deception, everything Henry had discovered. And the threat.

Lamb stared at Julia like he’d never seen her before. “You’re pregnant? But I thought…”

Julia’s smile was pure bliss - to tell someone, to finally have a moment of experiencing the joy of sharing the news. The emotions caught her unexpectedly and they all found themselves wiping tears from their cheeks.

“What in the world do uncles do? Should I know that?”

Henry stretched his arms above his head and yawned. “Just bring back trinkets for her from your digs and I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.”

“Her, is it?”

“Just a guess. No promises.”

Lamb looked at his family and for the first time felt profoundly grateful to _have_ a family. His smile lit up his flushed face and he leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs before him. “Uncle Lamb.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Beauchamps move to Oxford for Henry's job and make plans as baby time nears.

“Mr. Avery, I wonder if you smoked a bit less if you’d find yourself with a little extra energy? All that fresh air you get in your gardens might be cancelled out by all the smoke you’re inhaling. No room for the fresh air to get in, hm?”

Mr. Avery looked at Julia like she’d suggested he start walking on his hands. She kept a steady eye on the pocket where he kept his cigarettes in a little tin. He’d subconsciously reached for them five times over the last ten minutes and she was certain he’d be ablaze if she turned her back.

“That’s nonsense. I’ve smoked since I was a lad. My own father taught me with his pipe. Surely this is an ailment and you have a tonic I can take.”

Mr. Avery looked about sixty but assured her he’d only just recently turned forty. Dr. Collins swept in from a crowded room across the hall where they were holding suspected influenza cases. While great strides had been made in understanding the importance of disinfecting, she cringed as he grabbed the chart from her with hands that had just touched infected patients. He pressed the stethoscope to Mr. Avery’s chest and frowned. “Are you getting enough fresh air, Mr. Avery?”

“Well doctor, I’ll have you know I’m in my gardens most days and have been for a number of years now. And this nurse of yours seems to think I need to give up my cigarettes and pipe and become some sort of monk I suppose. I don’t care for the suggestion.”

Dr. Collins did not look at Julia, and spoke as if she weren’t there at all. “Well sir, I doubt taking away the comfort of a good smoke would help any of us, not in these difficult times certainly. No, I think a little coughing tonic will help and some exercise in fresh air. Brisk walking, that sort of thing.” He scribbled the tonic’s name on a sheet of paper and handed it to Julia. “Good day, Mr. Avery.”

The nurse’s lounge was no more than a wooden table stuffed into an old closet, but they made the most of it. Julia plopped down in a chair and let her head roll back. Abigail snorted and stretched her legs under the table. “Oh Jules, what did he do now?”

“Oh nothing. The usual nothing. No actual doctoring to be witnessed. No thought as to what the problem might be. _Here are some lovely drugs that will make you feel just high enough to forget that you can’t breathe_. I believe doctors learn things in medical school. I’m certain they must. But I have yet to witness any display of that acquired knowledge, or anything at all to suggest he didn’t just walk in from taking tickets at a train station and throw on a white coat and call himself doctor.”

“These men, right? Can you imagine if the women were the doctors? We’d listen, we’d talk it through with each other. I’d never say it to anyone but you, but I think women would make fine doctors. Better than most of these men.”

Julia smiled, mostly to herself. Moments like these were so strange, knowing the course of history. “I think you’re right, for what it’s worth.”

Julia pushed her chair out and stood to return to her shift and Abigail cast an exaggerated frown her way.

“Only one day left. I’m going to miss you so much. I will just sit here thinking about you growing that baby with your feet kicked up in Oxford. Life of luxury, darling.”

“Ha! I really hope your vision comes true.”

* * *

 

“How in the world did we acquire this many belongings in two months?” Henry heaved the second suitcase off the bed and carried it to the front door of Lamb’s flat. They’d been squatting with him, or rather, Lamb had taken to squatting in a friend’s place while Henry and Julia took over his. Tensions were starting to rise amongst the three of them as Henry’s quest for work led nowhere. Julia’s job as a nurse helped, but even the most progressive folk looked a little wary at their arrangement.

It happened by chance, as most things in life do. Lamb had lunch with a history professor who’d just met a fellow on a train from London who was in town to visit family, but who needed to get back to Oxford by next week to begin the search for a new editor at the Oxford Times as one of theirs had abruptly left. Lamb paid a boy to run a note to the flat to alert Henry that he might just have something brewing for him. Lunch became dinner and by the end of the long evening, Henry was exceptionally drunk and shaking hands on his new position as editor.

Julia’s reaction was not unexpected. “How? You’re charming, but you’re not hire-me-with-no-qualifications charming. Is it legally binding if you’re both hammered?”

“Oh, no need to congratulate me. I don’t think my ego could stand any more inflation. It’s fit to burst as it is.”

“Are you going to learn to speak like those fast-talking reporters? Because I will happily roleplay the floozy if you’re into that.”

Henry walked her backward and lifted her up onto the table, leaning his forehead against hers. “You are a weirdo and I don’t know what a floozy is. Does it involve pain? Tickling?”

Julia giggled and tilted her head up so his lips aligned with hers. She pulled his lower lip between her teeth and bit, just enough to leave marks. “I mean, it could involve pain. Tickling is a given. I know all your sensitive spots.”

“Hmm. Okay, I’m in. But not until we get settled in Oxford so I can learn the right jargon. I want to be convincing.”

* * *

 

Summer in Oxford was exquisite. The old town was rich with ghosts and Julia spent many an afternoon with her feet up on a bench overlooking a pond, dotted with lily pads. Her hands drifted lazily over her rounded belly, marveling at the strange sensation of carrying another life.

She talked to the baby, feeding her tales of everyday life in this time, of the denizens of intellectual pursuit crossing her path, of the war that would soon be over. Letters from Lamb became a favorite form of literature.

_Dearest family,_

_I am writing on this, the eve before my first major excursion with the university. We are traveling to boggy Ireland as the war has made all the other interesting locations too dangerous. I will refrain from joking, however, as I’ve come to know many who have lost family and friends. It is truly hard to comprehend, coming from a place where such tragedy is more distant._

_I hope you are enjoying Oxford and that the exceedingly boring intellectuals do not send you into a coma. I’m planning to come for a visit after this trip, though I doubt it will happen before THE BABY. Please welcome her (or him!) into the world for me and apologize for my tardiness. I’ll arrive bearing gifts. Ancient relics for you two and a clump of sod for the little one to chew on._

_I have been fortunate enough to procure the last two weeks’ editions of Henry’s paper and found it well-written, although there were two typos - I won’t say where. While I felt a deep familial shame, I did not let it dampen my spirits. I am certain my brother shall overcome this hardship._

_Much love to you all. Stay safe._

_Lamb(ert)_

_P.S. I’ve lately become obsessed with finding where lead is used in everyday items and I’m quite certain it is in toothpaste tubes so I recommend avoiding the tubed paste. You’re welcome._

She read excerpts of Henry’s newspaper, and wished more than a few times she could speak into her wristlight to figure out what some of the words meant. 

The everyday objects of life had changed so dramatically in 200 years, she was often left uncertain how to accomplish things and had to swallow her pride and ask. She’d discovered people expected pregnant women to be forgetful (for good reason) and that was a good enough excuse. _Could you get this contraption working for me? I seem to be having some trouble… Oh thank you._ Henry likely had to be a bit more clever about things.

As autumn approached, her walks grew shorter. The weight of the baby strained her back and required she not stray too far from a lavatory. Her knowledge of prenatal care helped only a little as wartime diet was rather restricted and she had no real way to measure how her body was doing in any case. The persistent kicking against her ribs was her greatest solace.

Julia arrived home from one such walk to find the doorway to her flat completely blocked by a piano. Just as she was opening her mouth to yell for Henry, a mess of brown hair attached to a rather grubby-looking youth,peeked over the side of the piano which had been angled to fit through the doorway.

“Oh! ‘Ello! Are you the Missus then?”

“Mmhm. I am. And you are pushing the piano out of my flat since you mistakenly delivered it to the wrong location, I take it?”

His confused expression left her a bit less hopeful.

Henry’s voice startled her as he briskly walked down the hall toward her. “Darling! You’re just in time!”

She stepped aside and stared as Henry and the young man maneuvered the upright into the flat and nestled it into a newly cleared spot in the living room. Henry turned to her with his face a mix of exhaustion, pride, excitement, and uncertainty. “I got a piano.” The young man cleared his throat and Henry dropped some coins in his palm, patting his shoulder as he scurried past her and into the hall.

Julia sat on the sofa, facing the piano and her husband, whose expression was slowly being taken over by uncertainty. “I know we don’t talk about it all the time, Henry. So, just as a reminder for both of us, I am pregnant and due to have a baby very soon.”

He dropped onto the sofa next to her and flung his arm over her shoulders which was met with immediate removal as his recent exertion had resulted in rather pungent underarms. “I do know that. I am thrilled about that. However, this piano was free! Can you believe that? Free! It’s beautiful!”

“We’ve been together the better part of a year now and I honestly had no idea you were one of those people who, if offered something for free, could not pass it up.”

“I’m not taking it just because it’s free. Really. It is lovely and I thought it would be fun to learn to play. I can teach the baby - when she’s not a baby obviously. She’ll need to sit up on her own and be able to reach the keys. Probably not the pedals. I don’t think that matters so much. There’s going to be ragtime music. We could play ragtime and you could do that weird dance where you swing your arms back and forth between your knees - 

“- The Charleston.”

“Yes, you could do that.

“Mmmm. So, your plan is for us to start a family vaudeville show?”

Henry slowly leaned over until his head rested lightly on the top of her stomach. “Your mother doesn’t believe in nurturing your creative expression, but I do. You’re going to have audiences clapping and singing along someday while your mother scowls in the back of the room.”

Julia gave a playful smack to his head and leaned down to kiss his temple. “Are you really going to learn to play?”

Henry sat up “Yes. I am. And so are you. We’ll play duets.”

Julia leaned back and groaned, a grin growing on her face.

“Oh!” Henry sat up and turned to face her. “I almost forgot. I was chatting with one of our printers today. He’s married to a midwife. They’re only about four blocks away. I’ve invited them over after dinner to see if we want to use her services. They’ve got three kids - teenagers, but I don’t think they’ll be coming. Is that okay?”

“You are full of surprises today. Yes, that sounds lovely. And lucky. Don’t use up all your good luck just yet. We might need some later, you know.”

“I will try to dial all the good luck back.”

* * *

 

Mr. and Mrs. Albert Windom arrived shortly after dinner with a plethora of desserts in a basket which instantly endeared them to both Julia and Henry. In their early 40s, they had the air of people who’d endured a good deal more than Henry and Julia could imagine, and thus felt a bit older. The Windoms exchanged all-knowing smiles at certain remarks, the shorthand of years of life shared. The four of them fell into easy conversation almost instantly and Julia nearly forgot the purpose of the visit until Mrs. Windom pulled her aside in the kitchen.

“Shall we take a look at the bedroom, to make sure it’s suitable for the birth? And we can discuss some more delicate matters away from the men.”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

Looking at her small, simple bedroom now and imagining having a baby in it - it felt too small, too dark, but Mrs. Windom seemed not at all phased. “Oh this will do nicely.” Her reassuring smile calming Julia’s worries. “This is your first, yes?”

Julia nodded and sat on the edge of the bed. “But I’ve attended a few births. I’m a nurse.”

Mrs. Windom sat next to her, eyes slowly traveling over the tiny details of the room. The tall wardrobe in the corner, the small table and chair filled with boxes for jewelry and makeup and combs and watches. “Hmmm. It is quite different being on the other end of things. Your mind is completely given over to the task at hand. You’ll find it’s not so easy to think in the midst of it.” She took Julia’s hand in hers, squeezing gently with her long, smooth fingers. “But that is why I’m here. When you start to feel lost, you look at me. I’ll be here to guide, to talk you through, but you will be doing the work.”

She continued holding Julia’s hand and as odd as it felt at first, with each passing minute she felt herself loosening, tiny locks opening at each junction. Touch had been lost in her time - this simple, comfort between two humans with no goal other than the reassurance of another’s presence.

“I won’t have you call me Mrs. Windom. You’ll call me by my name. Claire.”

She turned to Julia and asked, “May I feel the baby?” Julia nodded and Claire placed her hands on her stomach, her palms and long fingers stretching across.

“Lie back?”

Julia leaned back on her elbows and Claire squeezed and prodded, her expression changing with each movement of her hands.

“You think October? Very good size. I found two feet and one angry elbow. If it’s a girl, maybe she will be a tough one, hm?” She hooked her hand under Julia’s arm and pulled her back up.

“Why did you become a midwife?”

Claire looked at Julia, studied her face for a moment before answering. “No one has ever asked me that.” She brushed loose strands of hair back behind her ear and folded her hands in her lap. “It involves a difficult situation - I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine. Really. I want to know,” Julia reassured her.

“I was 19 when I had my first baby. It was very difficult. The baby was not turned as it should be. I was bleeding too much. The midwife had gotten angry with me, that the baby was not coming as it should...I…” She swallowed and took a steadying breath before continuing. “I was not married and she said it was God punishing me. It was very difficult, very long, but the baby was finally born. And she wasn’t alive.”

Julia took Claire’s hand and held it between her own, willing her own tears to wait.

“I thought I would die too. I nearly did. But my mother found another midwife who came after the first one left and she helped me. She saved me. And stayed with me for a long time, just talking to me, assuring me it was not my fault. When I married and became pregnant, I sought her out. I knew I could trust her. And she was there for my three children. Difficult births, but I was never afraid. And I became quite close to her, started to work with her. She taught me so much. All the ways that you can help when things aren’t going the way they should. How to speak to a woman laboring to keep her calm. She died two years ago and I knew this was what I needed to do. To carry on her wisdom, to honor what she’d done for me.”

The two women sat in silence on the edge of the bed, the soft murmurs of their husbands drifting down the hall. A few months ago she and Henry had sat on the edge of another bed, their conversation also about women’s bodies, about the awful war to control them.

“I’m glad we found you, Claire.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to meet baby Claire.

_ “I want to hear the story.” _

_ Henry perched on the edge of her bed and tucked the quilt up under her chin, pressing her down into the mattress a bit, which always elicited a giggle. “What story? Oh! You want to hear The Princess and the Pea? Okay. So, - “ _

_ “ - Noooo, Daddy! My story!” _

_ “Oooooohhhh, right. Your story. Hm, let’s see if I can remember it.” Henry scrunched his face up and made a great show of tapping his memory. “Well, it was a dark and stormy ni -” _

_ “- Not dark and stormy! It was  _ not _ a scary night. It was very, very, very nice night.” _

_ “Oh, well maybe you know this story better than I do. Were the stars out?” _

_ “Mmmhm. All the stars.” _

_ “Good. Wouldn’t want to be missing any stars.” _

* * *

 

“Would you pretend that I have no knowledge of babies and how one goes about the daily care of them? Proceed as if I’m entirely new to the human race. Like you’re writing a book for the most domestically useless man you’ve ever met.”

Claire flung her hand out to grip the edge of the table and doubled over laughing in great gasping breaths. Julia wore a sheepish grin while waiting for her to calm. If she was pressed, she might admit that besides being a wonderful midwife, the fact that Claire found everything Julia said hilarious was something of a selling point.

“You are serious? You know...nothing?”

“Well, I do know some, from nursing, but I just never had someone teach me how exactly things are done. Nappies and feeding times and such. I don’t know. I’m just a little nervous about what I’m to do. I’ve always had jobs, specific tasks. This feels different.”

Claire patted at the lace collar of her dress. “Well yes, quite different.” She pushed her chair out from the tiny kitchen table and retrieved the kettle, steaming to boil, and poured two cups of tea. Julia had finally figured out how to get bread to bake properly in their unpredictable oven and part of the reason she invited herself over to Claire’s was to share her bread and raspberry jam.

Julia had found many reasons beyond the impending birth to darken Claire’s door in the last few weeks. Claire had a way of telling stories that made one feel a part of it, like she was personally walking the listener through a place with her, a comforting presence. In truth, there was something maternal in her that Julia craved as well. Perhaps it was being in this unfamiliar time and place, but she felt herself wanting the comforting reassurance of others more than she had in her previous time.

She had taken Julia’s hand when they sat on the bed that first meeting, had surprised her with that physical connection, but now, after so many more teas and walks and quiet sitting room conversations, Julia found herself reaching for Claire’s hand as soon as she could. The simple warmth and weight of it, wrapping around her like a well-worn quilt.

She found Claire’s hand resting on her knee below the table and lightly entwined their fingers as they sipped in silence for awhile.

“You know, Julia, I always wish I could explain to new mothers that there is really no way for you to know how it will be to have a child. I can tell you that it will be hard, harder than anything you might have known prior, but you can’t know what that means. I can tell you that you will love this child in a way that is entirely different from any other person in your life. It will not be like how you might fall in love with a man. That will seem like a light breeze compared to the gale that accompanies your child. And your man will be jealous. I’ve never seen one who isn’t. He will be besotted, grateful, joyful, but sooner or later, he will wonder why things haven’t gone back to how they were before. He will wonder why he does not get so much of your attention anymore and he will start to tell you that you are doting on the baby too much. He’s worried you’re spoiling the baby. But really, he’s just jealous of the baby. It will be very hard, but whatever you do, don’t stop listening to your heart. Love that baby, do everything you can to care for it, tell your husband to go to work - he will get over it eventually.” 

Julia stretched her legs before her, rolling her ankles in circles to loosen the tension. Her entire body felt heavy with the baby and bread and emotions. “Tell me what you like most about being a mother.”

“Seeing them grow. There are a thousand things, of course. You know, of course, that your child will someday smile at you. But when they do, it will fill your heart fuller than you thought possible. And when they walk and read and learn to start caring for themselves, it feels the same every time. Some people shame mothers who talk of how proud they are of their rather ordinary children, but it’s real, that feeling. I wouldn’t begrudge them that. Your husband will come home from work and you will be so excited to tell him about how she ate with a spoon and it will be as tremendous as anything you’ve done in your life. And if parents did not feel that way, I don’t know if our children would survive. It’s built in to us, to cherish them so. And I think it does us no good to stifle that feeling.”

Julia hummed, a broad smile on her face. “When I was little I used to shadow my mom. Walk around the house with her, wanting to do everything she did. If it was too dangerous, like cooking, she would give me a little bowl with some flour and water and let me mix it to make my own ‘cake’. I used to look back on that and think what a nuisance I must have been, but maybe not. Maybe she loved it.”

“Maybe a bit of both, hm?”

And that was the truth of it. Life was never as simple as being annoying or ugly or beautiful or melancholy or wild. It was all things, all at once. Julia loved listening to Henry practice on the piano, clumsily plunking out tunes and scales over and over, until she hated it. And he loved her comedic monologues she’d perform while cooking until he hated it and just wanted some quiet. She loved feeling the baby kick until she was trying to sleep and then she hated it. Their lives had become so much easier and so much harder in this time.    
  


* * *

 

October was all bluster, the sharp sun cutting angles through gardens and petulant gusts of wind tearing loose from trees the weakest leaves. Julia stretched as high as she could on the stepstool, pressing the damp rag into the corners of the window. The winds had kicked up summer’s dust leaving a grit over their home and she wanted, at the very least, to see out her windows. As her rounded belly pressed against the cool glass, she felt a tightening, like a belt pulling against her middle.  It stopped her movement, condensed her consciousness to that one place in her body.

Henry was in the kitchen, washing the dishes from breakfast. He dried the stirring spoon and dropped the dish towel on a hook, straightening the flour and sugar crocks on the counter, sweeping each last crumb on the counter into his hands and dusting them off over the waste bin. Satisfied, he called to Julia as he grabbed his coat from the front hall. “I’m going to the store to get some nails for that loose baseboard. Do you need anything?”

_ Do I need anything? Possibly a midwife. No, too soon. One little contraction could mean anything. It could be days before things really happen. _ And, as is the way of such moments, Julia suddenly understood she was going to have a baby. Soon. Maybe today. Maybe not for days. But it was going to happen. Her heart raced a moment at this understanding. She suddenly felt a bit panicked. 

_What if the baby comes today?_ _Should I make soup?_ _Certainly some bread. My iron will be low after having the baby. I’ll need meat. Meat is so expensive, but maybe we could forgo something else for a bit. Maybe fish would be easiest._

She was drawn from her thoughts by a hand squeezing her thigh and Henry’s amused, and slightly concerned face, peering up at her. “You okay? I asked if you needed anything and you’ve just been staring at the window.”

She raised her brows, widening her eyes in some exaggerated attempt to snap out of it. “Yes, sorry. Maybe stop and see if there is something that catches your eye for tomorrow. Lots of good harvest still I think. Maybe fish?”

He leaned into her, kissing her belly and rubbing her lower back. “Sounds good. See you later. Be careful up there, okay?”   
  


* * *

 

Henry lingered at the market, freshly wrapped fish tucked under his arm, picking through apples and splurging on a basket of plums. He stood amidst the vendors and took note of his company. Nearly all women bustling through the market, filling their baskets, chatting about the hope for armistice, about the quality of today’s catch, about the heavy clouds forming in the west.

He got looks wherever he went. In their short time here, he’d yet to acclimate to the division of the sexes. It would grow easier to fall into it once the baby arrived, by the sheer necessity of Julia needing to provide food often enough to make separation only feasible after the first year. But now, he was constantly aware of the expectations of his gender. He shouldn’t be cooking or cleaning or minding the domestic affairs. He should be perched on a stoop, smoking and hedging wages on sports, opining on politics and war. 

And yet, times were changing. The war had shifted necessity. Women worked and began gaining the right to vote and inch by inch the tides began to shift. And his child would be born into a world full of promise. He leaned against a street post and stared through the masses, a blur of bustle, and he wondered if perhaps they had done something more than they could ever know by coming through those stones. What if their child’s presence here, in this time, would change the very fabric of the future they’d known? Was such a thing even possible?

He noted the time on the clock in the square and realized he’d managed to kill hours of his day. As an extra chastisement, a low rumble of thunder rolled through, eliciting excited chatter amongst the vendors. He secured his purchases and began his walk home. 

Fat drops of rain had begun falling two blocks from the flat and he picked up his pace, breaking into a run as the rain let loose. He rounded the corner and ran straight into a boy, who fell on his bottom and let out a howl. 

“Reggie! Sorry! Where are you hurrying off to in this?”

Reggie stood quickly, the rain soaking his trousers. He straightened his cap and spoke to Henry as if he were talking about his plans for a lazy Saturday night. “Well, Mr. Beauchamp, sir, seeing as Mrs. Beauchamp is having the baby, she’s asked me to fetch the midwife as she doesn’t wish to birth the baby alone. My Mum had her babies alone and didn’t seem troubled by it, but my Dad says he don’t trust no one touching her so no midwives or doctors for her. I did see a doctor once when I busted my arm fallin’ out a tree an’ I was grateful for that doctor. I don’t think my Mum would’ve known quite how to fix it.”

Henry, thoroughly soaked, merely blinked at Reggie. “My wife is having the baby? Is that what you said?”

“Yes sir, she’s in there clutching her belly an’ moanin’ a fair bit. I’ve seen my Mum do that, so it does seem to be the current state of things.”

“Yes, okay, okay, okay. Yes, you should go. Go quickly. I’ll pay you when you return with Mrs. Windom. Go!” 

He practically picked Reggie up and threw him in the direction of the Windoms’ and then ran to the flat, taking the steps two at a time. Once inside he dropped the food in the kitchen, quickly stuffing the fish in the ice box.  _ Who knows when I’ll get to that.  _ He hated how soaked he’d gotten and began shedding his clothes in the hall, careful to keep the sopping pile on the rug. He walked into the bedroom, chest thumping, wearing nothing more than boxers, an undershirt, and fifty different expressions on his face.

Julia sat on the bed, her back against the headboard, hands rubbing circles on her belly. “Oh honey, I don’t know if I’m in the mood right now.”

He gaped at her and then looked down at himself, shaking his head and suppressing a laugh. “You’re making sex jokes while you’re in labor? Is that a good sign?”

“I’d say my joke frequency directly correlates with my personal distress, so if I start to rattle off one-liners, that means we’re really close.”

Just as she finished speaking her face contorted, brows pulled tight together and her entire body seemed to tense.

“Jesus, this is really happening.”

She let out a breath and sunk back into the pillows. “Mmhm. Definitely happening.”

Claire Windom arrived with her teenage daughter, Alice, and they set about readying the room, cleaning, cooking, and begging Henry to please stay out of the way. At Claire’s request, Julia took to walking, wearing a circular path around the sitting room while requesting Henry play song after song, poorly skilled as he was.  _ The unexpected wrong notes help keep me distracted from the contractions.  _

The rain graduated to a thunderstorm, lending a dramatic air to the scene. Neighbors had, by now, converged in the hall, waiting to hear news of the baby only to be told repeatedly that it would be some time now. 

Henry sat at the piano, watching rain splatter against the windows, casting weeping shadows over his torso. He held his arms loosely in front of himself, as if he were holding a child, and imagined what it might feel like, the tiny warm weight. 

 

_ “ _ _ Then, I heard a noise from the bedroom. It was your Mum. She wanted me to know that you were getting ready to come.” _

_ “I was ready! I was probably very hungry and that’s why I wanted to come out.” _

_ “Ha! Probably. That does sound like you.” _

 

Henry peeked into the room to see they’d cleared the bed of the blankets and had laid down sheets and some old blankets he didn’t recognize. Julia was lying back, propped up against pillows, breathing deeply, eyes screwed shut. She held Alice’s hand and her other clenched the blankets below her. He moved to the bed and sat gently beside her, prying her fingers from the blankets. She moaned as he leaned in and kissed her temple. “I’m here. I’m right here. You’ve got this.”

Claire looked as if she was about to speak, but smiled at him instead.

In the little bedroom, minutes and hours lost meaning, with only breathing and sweat and shaking muscles demanding attention. Henry found himself trying to push with her, as if he could will his strength into her and was admonished for his efforts by Claire.  _ Henry, you’ll faint if you keep that up and I don’t need a body in the way right now.  _ Julia had laughed at that, in the middle of utter exhaustion and her body tearing itself apart, she laughed at him. 

Claire laughed too and then, with a deep commanding breath, said, “All right Julia, let’s meet this little one.”

Julia had crushed his fingers, mangled them through ten more minutes of pushing, and when she finally let go, he realized the rain had stopped. The room, everything, was silent, save the faint ticking of the bedside clock showing they’d crossed into a new day. And then, a cry. Shrill and angry and hungry.

 

_ “Did I eat right away?” _

_ “You did. You practically crawled up your Mum’s belly to get to your food.” _

_ “What did you do when you saw me?” _

_ Henry ran his fingers through is daughter’s wild, curly hair, tucking it behind her ear. “I cried when I saw you because I was so happy to finally meet you. I was so happy that you were strong and healthy and safe. And I kissed your Mum a hundred times because I was so happy that she was also strong and healthy and safe.” _

_ “And then...and then...then you showed me the stars?” _

_ “Mmhm. Then, a while later, when your Mum fell asleep, I wrapped you up and took you outside and showed you the stars.” _

_ “All of them?” _

_ “All of them.” _


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second-to-last chapter of this story. Our Claire grows up a bit. All is not well.

“Claire….do you think you can just hide from me? Do you think I won’t find you wherever you go?” He crept across the room, shifting his weight to suss out creaks in the floor. “I can hear you breathing…”

He lunged around the side of the armchair, nearly knocking the floor lamp over, and was met with an ear-splitting scream. Followed by a bubbling giggle and dancing feet. 

“I got you! Ha! No one escapes the clutches of evil Dr. Terror!” And then the smell hit Lamb’s nostrils. “Oh god. Shit.”

“Shit!”

“Exactly. Why again did I agree to watch you while your parents went out to dinner? The entire point of becoming parents is so you never have time to do anything for yourself ever again. And yet here I am, about to come face to face with an unimaginable horror while they are probably ordering dessert. Come along then.” He held out his hand and stood while Claire grasped it and followed him to the bathroom.

She squirmed on the cold tile floor while he cleaned her off. “What shit?”

“Well. It’s what you just did in your pants. And you really ought to do it in the toilet from now on, so please consider that. And it’s also a bit of a naughty word so please do not say it and if you do, don’t tell your parents you heard it from me. Although I find it impossible to believe your mother hasn’t said it in front of you countless times by now.”

“What shit?”

“I don’t know. Shall we see if there is any cake left?”

“Cake!”

“I feel as if we really understand each other, Claire. Come here.”

* * *

 

As a toddler Claire had the mind of naturalist. She preferred to be outdoors and spent most of her time gathering objects for sorting and examining and occasionally, burying. Rocks and twigs and leaves and seeds and on one unfortunate afternoon, duck droppings.

Her parents adored her curious ways and her uncle delighted in them. Lamb already planned to teach her how to properly dig for treasure. Once she stopped trying to taste everything she dug up.

Henry and Julia rarely spoke about things before the stones, but shared looks from time to time. When they first got the telephone installed in the hall they were practically giddy about it. Henry had laughed to himself, watching Julia holding the earpiece to her head, waggling her eyebrows at him. _Look at us._

Julia floated outside herself as they sat in the theatre, being swept away with the rest of the audience watching Douglas Fairbanks in _The Mark of Zorro_ in the flickering dark. _Look at us_.

Every new thing felt electric, like hidden doors were opening around them, revealing a vast, new world awaiting exploration. In 200 years, this movie would seem silly and boring. But here, now, there was only joy.

Post-war life was a dizzying mix of frivolity and conservation, emboldened social movements and labor upheaval, workers navigating the desire for better wages and safer conditions against the fragile swings of the economy, reeling from wartime spending.

It felt as though the plates were shifting, adjusting the landscape, while the people skirted newly opened ravines and scrambled over the uneven terrain of a world in flux.

“You would think coming from the future would afford us some way to anticipate and prepare ourselves, but without knowing _exactly_ when everything happens...it just feels like our own special anxiety only _we_ get to experience.” Julia sprinkled a pinch of salt over the top of the soup and began chopping a handful of chives she’d cut from the planter in the front window.

Henry sat at the table, bent over a mound of socks, slowly working the needle through the split ends where his big toe had pushed through. “My brother said he’s there now - Hitler. He’s working his way into the party, drumming up support already. The German economy is on the verge of plummeting and once they demand reparations from the war, everything is going to collapse. And we’ve seen _countless times_ how economic collapse is the final lit fuse for a genocide. That’s what so damned frustrating. It just happens over and over. Growing economic fears, find an ethnic group to blame, promise if you get rid of said ethnic group everything will be better, people willingly slaughter their own friends.”

“He’s hearing this from the German archaeologist?”

“Mmhm. Sounds like a good bloke. Hates the Nazis, at least.”

“Not the worst friendship litmus test, really.”

Claire walked in with her ever-present basket in hand. She deposited it on the table while she climbed up into a chair next to her father.  She began pulling rocks out of the basket and lining them up on the table in front of her.

Julia dumped the chopped chives into the soup and wiped her hands on her apron. “Oh honey, I don’t think we want to put your rocks on the table right now. We’re going to eat soon.”

“They eat too!”

Henry finished tying the thread and gathered the socks into his arms. “I’m sure they’re hungry, but they might not be very clean, so we don’t want them where we’re going to eat.”

“Oh, she bathed them this morning, so they probably are fairly clean. And she named them all. Did you know that? There are at least two named Rocky.”

Henry chuckled and pushed his chair out to stand. “What does Rocky like to eat, Claire?”

“Soup!”

“Okay, well, I guess we need to find some tiny bowls, Julia. Rocky needs soup.”

* * *

 

The summer after Claire turned three, the Beauchamps began a new tradition; a summer week in Bognor Regis. A bit of a splurge, but both Henry and Julia had missed the seaside since leaving Helsinki.

They booked a room on the waterfront and spent their days watching Claire bury her feet in sand and run wildly through the edges of the surf, giggling as it curled up around her ankles and disappeared back to the sea.

On their final night, the three of them snuck down to the docks at sunset when the beaches quieted, to watch the light shimmer over the waves. It bounced off the glass of the hotel windows and cast a warm glow over their tanned limbs.

Henry held tight to Claire’s hand on the dock, worried her wild movements would send her over the edge. “You can’t take all your rocks home, Claire. You have to pick three of your favorites and let the others stay here with their families.”

“No! They’re _all_ my favorites!”

“I know. It’s hard, but some of them aren’t ready to leave home yet. You have to let them stay. Just three are ready to go with you.”

She huffed and squeezed his hand, not liking his demand, but slowly acquiesced. Claire squatted on the end of the dock and put three rocks aside. Then, very carefully, she kissed each rock goodbye and tossed it into the ocean. Her eyes filled with unshed tears and she bravely swallowed her loss before settling into her mother’s lap.

Julia wrapped her arms around Claire and rocked her. “You’re sad to say goodbye. Should we sing them a song?”

A sniffle. “Mmhm.”

Julia cleared her throat and began softly singing over her daughter’s wild curls.

 

_“Oh I do like to be beside the seaside_

_I do like to be beside the sea_

_I do like to stroll along the Prom, Prom, Prom_

_Where the brass bands play, ‘Tiddely-om-pom-pom’”_

 

They’d sung the song the day before, along with a boisterous crowd gathered around musicians on the promenade. It was bombastic and spirited then. Now, she sang it slow and quiet, a melancholy dirge for the sun falling below the horizon, for the solitude that swirls between a person and the vast sea, for the rocks that fell heavily through the dark waters to settle with their brethren below.

* * *

 

The Beauchamps returned to the sea again the next summer when Claire was four. This time they rode horses for the first time, with Claire tucked under her father’s chin, her head thumping against his chest. The wind whipped against their faces and she gasped in pure joy at the feeling, like the world was wide open before her.

They bought ice cream cones and Claire dropped hers three steps from the vendor, coating it in dirt. She cried fat tears and wailed, and they returned ten minutes later, after she’d quieted, for a replacement. A miserable older woman scolded Henry for buying another as that would only teach their daughter to cry for whatever she wants. Henry grabbed Julia’s arm and pulled her away before the string of expletives could spill from her mouth. Hours later, as they lie in bed, exhausted from a day in the sun, Julia rolled to her side to settle into sleep and he heard her mutter, “Fuck that lady. Seriously.” He smiled against his salt, surly wife’s back.

In the morning, they said their goodbyes to the sea and Henry began loading the luggage into the car that would take them to the train station.

It happened with the final bag. It was a small bag, mostly filled with Claire’s things, not as weighty as the deep suitcase he’d just tossed in. And yet, when he lifted it, his arm went numb, starting from his elbow. His forearm muscles spasmed and quieted, then his hand. A twitch, then dead. The bag dropped to the ground with a thud and he stared at it for a few seconds, unable to process why it was there and not in his hand. He tried to flex his hand, tighten it into a fist and he watched as his mind told it to move...and it didn’t. One flex. Nothing. Another attempt. _There. There it is. It’s fine._

Sometimes life is so immediate and random, one forgets that the chapters make up a larger story. DNA tests and secret labs and threats behind closed doors were so far away, hundreds of years from him, another life. He was just a man in England, in 1922, traveling home with his family to their simple life. He closed the car door and turned to watch his wife and daughter walking toward him, hand in hand.

* * *

Claire was growing like a weed, her legs all muscle and bone, knobby knees peppered with bruises. She acquired a new bruise on her kneecap when she swung round on the piano bench, cracking her knee against the edge. “Ow!”

Henry gave her a chastising look. “Well, what do you expect when you swing around like that? Settle down and put your hands in the right place. Let’s practice _Three Blind Mice_ again, okay?”

He loved watching her play, her brow furrowed in concentration as she plunked the keys and upon completion, the satisfied smile as she turned to see if he’d heard.

He tried to imagine her grown, when he looked at her in profile. She had resembled him in features for the first few years, but now he could only see Julia in her. He didn’t want her to grow up, wanted to keep her forever small enough to pick up and swing in his arms. And yet, he yearned to know her as a woman. She was so curious and clever, always questioning, always pushing. A scientist’s mind like her mother, like her uncle, and still with an abundance of compassion, quick to feel deeply for others. A bit of himself. His favorite daydream was imagining the trail she’d blaze through the world, this whip-smart, resilient woman.

* * *

 

“Dammit!”

Lawrence jumped back from the desk and grabbed the papers before the tea could soak into them. “What the devil, Henry?! That’s the second time this week you’ve dropped your tea. I’m going to strap it to your hand if you don’t get a hold of yourself.”

“Sorry! Clumsy!” Henry ran to the break room and grabbed a rag to clean it up, dabbing at the papers that hadn’t been saved.

“Honestly, is there something wrong with your hand? I’ve seen you flexing it. You might want to see a doctor.”

He couldn’t say why it took him so long to put it together. Maybe it was being so far from that world. So far from that moment when she showed him his DNA results. It was just a possibility. Not a certainty. He’d shelved it, closed the door, walked away. He had bigger things to worry about at the time. But it had caught up with him and he had to face what was likely happening to him. The disease had come to claim him.

“I’m going to head out in a bit. Need to pick up a birthday present for Claire.”

Lawrence leaned back in his chair. “You’ve checked over Andrew’s copy?” Henry nodded as he slipped his jacket on. “Good. So, how old is she now?”

“Five, believe it or not. She’s devouring books. Draws quite a lot, too. She has a notebook filled with drawings of plants. All the herbs Julia grows out front, Claire just sits in front of them and draws them, labels all the parts. I’m going try to find a new drawing tablet for her as a present.”

Henry found a paper goods shop with a nice selection of drawing pads and he settled on one with a blue ribbon attached to keep her place. The shopkeeper wrapped it in brown paper and Henry tucked it under his arm as he headed home.

He allowed himself just a moment to think about it, the muscles in his body slowly dying. How it would feel to lose control of his arms, then his legs, his body lying useless in a bed as he waited to die. He hated it, this self-pity, hated the thought of his wife and daughter burdened by his helpless form. His throat closed, and he ducked into an alley. Falling against the brick wall, he slid to the ground, and wept into his hands.

Three deep, slow breaths. He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the wetness from his face. This indulgence would get no more of his time. He stood, scooping the package up from the ground and walked quickly home to surprise his daughter.

Claire sat on the front steps of their building with her friend, Muriel. They were tying a bundle of sticks to the stair rail and he couldn’t imagine what it was meant to be. Too engrossed in their work, they didn’t see him approach. “Is there a birthday girl at this residence?”

Claire leapt to her feet and squealed, running to her father and wrapping her arms around his middle. She noticed the package right away and pulled it from under his arm. “Is this for me?!”

“It is, but we need to take it inside. Your mother will kill me if you open it without her.”

Muriel accompanied them, and they enjoyed some chocolate cake after Claire opened her present from her parents, which she loved, and Muriel’s gift, a bracelet made of seashells - Claire’s first gift from a friend.

Muriel headed home, and Henry began cleaning up in the kitchen. He finished washing the dishes and, walking into the hall, stopped when he heard Julia scolding Claire.

“I have told you, over and over, not to touch this vase. Why would you do this when I’ve told you not to?! I can’t fix this crack. It’s ruined because you touched it and knocked it over!”

Claire’s voice wobbled. “I didn’t! It was Daddy!”

“Do _not_ lie to me, Claire.”

“I’m not! I saw him do it!” She’d dissolved completely into tears.

Henry’s stomach knotted. “Julia.”

Julia looked out the doorway to where he stood in the hall, her face flushed with anger.

“She’s not lying. I did break it. I’m sorry.”

Julia looked away from him and immediately dropped to her knees, pulling Claire to her. “Oh god, I’m sorry, love. I shouldn’t…. I’m sorry.” She pulled back and wiped a tear from Claire’s cheek. “Okay?”

“Mmhm. Okay.”

“Go get ready for bed, sweetie.” She pulled Claire in for a quick kiss and straightened. After Claire ran off, she held her hand out for Henry and he took it, walking into her arms.

“You okay?”

“No.”

“Hmph. I’m sorry. I mean, it was a reasonable assumption that your precocious and curious daughter would have broken it, rather than your husband.”

Julia pulled him to the bed and they sat together, leaning into each other. “How did you break it, by the way?”

“I was dusting. I just picked it up to dust around it and…” His words caught in his throat and he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stop the tears.

“Henry, what is going on?”

He grasped her hands between his own, a tremor running down his arm. His voice cracked as he spoke. “My hands don’t work.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this final chapter, Lamb finds out about Henry's problem, they all meet up and devise a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been such a wonderful experience writing this story. Thank you to all who have enjoyed reading it. I have fallen in love with these characters and will miss them.

Henry kissed their daughter goodnight and returned to the bedroom where Julia waited. The grief that had lined her face minutes before had been replaced with a stillness that reminded him of when they’d first met. The protective mask she wore. Still and unreadable.

Julia removed his shirt, careful and methodical, folding it and placing it on a chair in the corner of the room. She ran her fingers along his arms, from shoulder to fingertip, squeezing here, prodding there. Bending and pulling and kneading the flesh as if she could chase the disease out of its hiding place, send it scurrying into the open where she could extract it by sheer will. She asked him too many questions. Anything to stave off the inevitable acceptance.

Henry sat on the edge of the bed and she stood between his legs, pulling him to her. His breath was hot through the fabric of her dress and his arms circled her hips, drawing her tighter to him until she felt like she might topple forward. She gripped the back of his head, resting her cheek on his hair, and drew her finger over his freckled shoulder, picturing in her mind the bones and muscle that moved like a machine beneath the skin. His strength seemed too real, the mechanisms behind it all too complicated to be conquered by a miniscule, insidious force seen by no one.

Henry’s hands stilled, low on her hips, and squeezed as he spoke against her. “I don’t want to talk about it right now. I just want to be with you.”

She tilted his head back, away from her body and fell upon his mouth hungrily, drawing a moan from his throat that rumbled through her. She breathed the words into him. “I love you.” He worked loose the buttons of her dress and pulled it to the floor. Undergarments, jewelry, stockings. He shed his own clothes and drew her close.

In between the desire and love was anger, pulsing through both of them. Anger at the injustice of it, and anger that there was no one to punish for it. Their bodies tangled together as they fell upon the bed and her nails drew red lines down his back, but she couldn’t reach the monster inside him.

Her heart beat in every part of her body and the throbbing between her legs was maddening and relentless. She pulled his thigh between hers and ground into him. Looking for relief, she felt only a growing surge. Pulling his head to hers, she growled into his ear. “Henry.”

His body would fail him, fail them both in time. But now, in this moment, he felt every muscle straining and vibrating.

The tone of her voice as she spoke his name was not pleading but demanding. She wanted his strength. She wanted him to bend her, rattle her. She wanted no teasing or gentleness and he obeyed with a searing thrust that shook the headboard and drew a cry from her throat. She held the words in her mind. _Don’t stop_. But couldn’t form them. Couldn’t think beyond the wave cresting to overtake her.

She pulled him deeper and he stretched her, hooking his arms under her legs, raising her hips until he found the angle that silenced her as she sunk her fingers into his back.

She looked tortured, anguished to him, in the midst of her ecstasy. He felt it too, how they twisted together in his most vulnerable moments. Love turning to pain and back again in the span of a heartbeat.

Julia’s body shuddered, aftershocks coursing through her as his pace quickened. Her senses began to return, and she became attuned to the sounds of their room.

The squeaking, creaking bed. His breath ragged and punctuated by sounds he’d be horrified to learn were grunts. Their bodies slapping together. And one other sound. A rhythmic grating sound, like a metal chair being pushed inch by inch. She turned her head to watch the clock on the bedside table nudge precariously close to the edge. One more to go over. Henry surprised her with his final thrust and she shot an arm out, pinning the clock to the edge of the table with her hand. He collapsed onto her and she drew the slick skin of his neck between her teeth.

Caught.

* * *

 

Julia and Claire spent their days scouring libraries, looking for anything that might speak to treatment for degenerative muscle diseases. Logically she knew it was futile. If they didn’t have a treatment 200 years from now… _What had the report said? They were working on it. A university in Germany. Berlin?_

She let her spine settle against the chair in the dark corner of the university library. The librarian had looked at her skeptically, if not disapprovingly. A woman nosing around in medical books was bad enough, but to drag her young daughter along was confounding. Meanwhile, Claire was tucked in a corner, sitting cross-legged with a giant anatomy book in her lap, utterly engrossed.

“Be careful turning the pages.”

“I know!”

“Okay, I just don’t want to get into trouble with that scary lady at the front desk.” Her mother’s whispered confession sent Claire into giggles, which then required a genuine shush lest they really get in trouble.

She had debated telling Claire about his condition. It wouldn’t escape her notice for long. Just the night before, Henry and Claire had sat at the piano together, playing a duet, and she’d chastised her father numerous times for missing keys he normally wouldn’t. His fingers lying lifeless, unmoving as he stared at them, yelling at them in his mind to move. _You finish the song on your own, honey. You’re better at it than I am anyway._

Julia closed the books before her and pushed them to the end of the table to be returned to the stacks. She was running into the wind with no real destination. The urge to do something had overridden sense, but looking over at Claire now, the lamplight limning her curls as her fingers traced the lines of the heart valves on the page, she felt time hovering over them. Its dark presence curled through the air and whispered in her ear that every second that passed was another second nearer his death.

“Put the book on the table, Claire. We need to go.”

“But I like this one. Can we take it?”

Julia smiled, briefly contemplating stuffing the giant tome under her jacket and absconding with it. “See if you can remember some of the pictures and draw them in your notebook tonight, okay?”

Claire reluctantly dropped the book on the table with a resounding thump that turned the heads of annoyed students nearby. They left the library behind with the sound of Claire muttering under her breath about not getting to properly see what the inside of lungs looked like.

* * *

 

When Claire was just eight months old, she developed whooping cough. Coming from a time of widely available vaccines and treatments and the eradication of so many devastating diseases, Henry and Julia had not thought to be wary of a cough. Had not imagined it would bring them to their knees with the fear that they’d lose her with no way to stop it.

Henry would return home from work every day as quickly as he could to find Julia lying exhausted on the sofa, clutching Claire to her chest. Julia’s eyes would be lined with dark circles and puffy from her own tears. He’d heat broth for her, and while Julia ate and slept, he would sit on the bathroom floor with Claire, running hot water from the taps to fill the room with steam. And when that ran out, he’d boil it in kettles until they both were wrinkled and drowsy. With each deep, painful cough that shook her little body, he’d reassure her and try to convince himself. _It’s okay._ _You’re going to be okay. I’ve got you._

Henry recalled the crushing helplessness of that time as he stood now on a stone bridge over a rushing stream. Its waters were high from recent rains and he marveled at the speed with which a leaf dropping into the flow was suddenly gone.

The still, reflective waters of the canal. The raging North Sea crossing to Scotland. The waves of the beach swallowing Claire’s tiny toes. The blood drying on Julia’s thighs as she pulled their daughter from her womb to her breast. Life was liquid. It became the shape of that which held it. Water filled his eyes and he tilted his head back until he saw only sky.

His shoes slid over slick stones as he ran, careening around corners into the surprised faces of ambling pedestrians. Begging pardons and securing his cap he pressed on, stretching his stride until a blister grew on his heel and his sweat-soaked shirt clung to his skin.

He could picture them inside. Claire making up songs under her breath as she drew in her notebook and Julia humming along with the wireless while she chopped vegetables. God, he wanted to crush them to him and breathe in their scents and swing around wildly until they all fell into a pile. _This is not over._

He entered their home like a gust of wind, swinging the door wide and throwing his jacket on a hook. “I’m home!” He was greeted by momentary silence, then Claire, peeking her head around the corner with her finger to her lips.

“Shhh! Mum is on the telephone with Uncle Lamb,” she shout-whispered.

He winked at Claire, slipped off his shoes and tip-toed to his daughter. Crouching, he pulled her into a hug while glancing down the hall at Julia, leaning with her head on her hand as she spoke quietly into the receiver.

“Daddy, you need a bath.”

“Hmm?” He sniffed and made a disgusted face, then pretended to gag, much to Claire’s amusement. “You do too, from the look of the dirt on your face. Were you using your nose to dig a hole?”

“No, I used one of Mummy’s little spades! I buried a treasure with Muriel. We’re going to keep it buried for a long time and then dig it up again when we’re 100 years old.”

“Excellent plan. I hope you do.”

He kissed Claire’s cheek and began stripping off his clothes as he stepped around Julia in the hall on his way to the bathroom. He dropped a kiss on her head and she grasped his hand before letting him go. Henry washed quickly and called Claire in for a quick bath after him. While she played in the bathtub he found Julia in the bedroom.

“I took Claire to the library again, so we could look through medical books.”

He pulled an undershirt over his head and ran his fingers through his wet hair before sitting next to her on the bed. His voice was gentle. Tired. “Did you find anything?”

Julia tilted her head against his shoulder and rested her hand on his thigh, lazily drawing circles with her fingertips. “You know I didn’t. There’s nothing to find.”

“I know.” He brought his arm around her shoulder and rested his cheek on her head. “Did you tell Lamb?”

“Mmhm. He wants to see us. He’s working not too far from here at a Roman site for the week. I’m going to ask the Windoms if we can borrow their car for the day.”

“Sure. We can do that. That’s all you talked about? Seemed like a long conversation.”

“We were catching up.”

Julia rose then to dry off Claire who was bouncing foot to foot in a growing puddle of water in the bathroom doorway.

He knew she wasn’t telling him something. He was certain of it, but he tucked it away and resolved to let her have her secret for now. His mind was too tired to add this concern. It could wait for another day.

* * *

 

Claire’s wiry frame bounced in the back seat from a combination of excitement and rough roads on their hour-long drive to the site. Heavy rains had made a mess of already deeply-rutted gravel roads and Henry’s arms were shaking with exertion thirty minutes into the drive from gripping the steering wheel so hard. By the time they arrived at the site, Henry and Julia practically rolled out of the car onto the ground. Claire, meanwhile, leapt out and dashed through a dozen puddles to her uncle’s open arms.

They’d told Claire in the morning about the excursion and her scream when she learned she’d get to visit one of her uncle’s work sites, was loud enough to bring Mrs. Waverly knocking on their door to check that no one had suffered any great calamity. Her screams had devolved to occasional shrieking and eventually incessant babbling on the ride there.

Julia and Henry spoke little on the drive and what remained unspoken grew heavier as they neared. This disease, his family, time pressing in on him. It felt like everything was converging in this place.

Henry met his brother’s eyes and felt his chest tighten. He couldn’t say the last time he’d hugged his brother, but he fell into his embrace easily and felt a deep gratitude to the universe. He felt warm and solid and Henry’s heart beat steadily against Lambert’s. And then Lambert turned his head and spoke softly to his little brother.

“It’s okay.”

Henry’s fingers gathered the fabric of Lambert’s jacket and squeezed, holding himself up as his body wracked with sobs. He hadn’t cried like this since he was a child, his breath gasping as all the strength he thought he’d gathered inside fell off his tongue in whimpers.

“It’s okay.”

Julia had led Claire away as soon as she saw him fall apart, desperate to hold herself together, to keep the questions at bay just a little longer. “Let’s go see this building. What do you think it is?”

Claire’s attention was instantly grabbed by the crumbling stone walls, wet with rain and crawling with lichen. “Can we go in? It could be an old castle!”

She pulled her mother along and they carefully stepped up into what must have been a chapel at some point. The ceilings were mostly gone, save for a few spots of shelter inhabited by spiders. Claire began exploring and after a few minutes, Henry and Lambert arrives, eyes red, but smiling. Henry walked straight to Julia and kissed her lightly. It was quiet for a moment; the only sound Claire’s shoes squelching in spots of mud.

Julia cleared her throat and looked to Lamb. “Did you - “

“No. I thought you might…”

Henry looked at them both. “Out with it then.”

Julia voice was thin and wavered. “We have to go back.”

“Go back?” Henry stared at her for a moment, not understanding what she meant. “The stones? You’re serious? I don’t -”

Lamb interrupted him. “ - Berlin. Julia said they were working on a treatment in Berlin. You get through the stones and you go to Berlin.”

Henry squeezed his hands together, taking deep breaths. “They didn’t have a cure. We don’t even know if they are still working on one. We would have no money… How would we get there?”

Claire had wandered back to her mother’s side, curious at the tone of the adults, curious why they were standing in this old building being angry. Her shoes, slick with mud, slipped on the stones and Julia grabbed her daughter’s wrist at the last minute to hold her upright. “Hold my jacket so you don’t fall, Claire.”

Lamb had removed his hat and was nervously running his fingers through his hair, shifting his weight between his feet. “You drive back to your place and pack a light bag, enough for a few days to get up there. Layer your clothes, take every bit of jewelry, watches, anything that might be tradeable as an antique. You just need enough to get you to a shelter. I have a friend in Hamburg. If you can get in touch with him, explain who you are, he’ll help to get you there.”

Henry’s head swayed back and forth, his mind and heart wrestling with denial. “This is... We need to think about this.”

Lamb’s voice echoed off the stone, sharp and desperate. “No! Henry, we’re running out of time! _You_ are running out of time.”

Julia took Henry’s hand in hers and brought it to her lips. “It’s the only option, Henry.”

He did not speak but nodded his assent. They walked out of the ruined building and felt the sun finally start to peek out of the clouds. Henry stopped to look back at his brother and ran his fingers through Claire’s hair as she clung to her mother’s hand. He nodded at Lambert and walked straight to the car.

Julia turned back to Lamb. “I don’t… Could Claire stay with you while we...get what we need for our trip? I don’t want to trouble her with it, if that’s okay with you.”

Lamb pulled Julia into a quick hug and spoke quietly into her ear. “Of course. We’ll be right here waiting. I’m sure I can find some fun things for her to dig up.”

“Thank you, Q.”

Julia bent down and squeezed her daughter’s arms, smiling. “Sweetheart, we are going to go on an adventure. But first Daddy and I need to get some things because it’s an extra big adventure. We’ll be back in just a little while and then we’re going to go on a train. Won’t that be fun?”

Claire’s smile slowly disappeared, and a little crease formed on her brow. “But I was going to make a castle with Muriel tomorrow. Will I still get to do that?”

“Oh no, I’m sorry. You won’t.”

Claire’s face fell and her chin quivered. “Then I don’t want to go.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it sooner. But you know what? This will be so much fun and you will see mountains and it will be magical. And if you’re still worried about going… There’s something my mother, your grandmother, used to tell me when I was worried about doing something new or if things didn’t work out the way I wanted them to. She said to just say to yourself, ‘It’s a new adventure. Keep looking for the good I can do.’ If you say that, then we will have the best adventure together.”

Claire’s smile grew wide and she pressed her forehead to her mother’s and repeated it to her. “It’s a new adventure. Keep… keep…”

They spoke the rest of the words together. “Keep looking... for the good... I can do.” Julia kissed her nose and walked to the car. She and Henry waved to Claire and Lamb as they steadied themselves for another hour of potholes and ruts.

As her parents bounced down the road, Claire turned to her uncle. “Can I help you dig?”

“Let’s go find you a shovel.”

_“We have to do this.” He repeated it, convincing himself that this decision was the right one._

_“We do, but God Henry, I don’t want to. I don’t want to leave.”_

_“Neither do I. But you’re right. We have to. There’s no other option.”_

Claire sat on a tiny stool and sifted through a bucket of dirt, littered with chunks of broken pottery. He’d tasked her with finding matching pieces, a near impossibility, but one she enthusiastically accepted.

She blew the dust from each piece and lined it up neatly on a table, history’s own puzzle.

_“What if she can’t go through?”_

_“She came through just fine in your womb, didn’t she? There must be a genetic link. She’ll be fine.”_

_“You should go through with her first. In case it doesn’t work so I’ll still be here for her.”_

_He didn’t answer but turned his head to his wife in the passenger seat, a sad smile and a nod, all he could muster._

Claire chewed on her bottom lip as she rearranged the broken pieces, looking for patterns. She gasped and held two pieces up. “Uncle Lamb! I found two that go together! They match!”

_It had been so gradual, the loss. And erratic at that. Perhaps if he’d been slowly getting worse every day. If he could feel the weakness seeping in he might have considered it a part of him and changed his habits. But, in fact, he didn’t drop his tea cup every day. He had no trouble at all playing piano most days. Tying his shoes, buttoning his shirt, shaving, fixing the leaking radiator. He couldn’t expect the unexpected, could he?_

_The tremor started in his shoulder, then tingling, and numbing. Henry looked at his arm, confused. It wasn’t supposed to happen right now. He watched, but did not feel, his hand fall from the wheel and land upon the throttle. And then he heard only the revving of the engine, lurching them forward. Julia’s arms braced against the dash. “Henry!”_

_The world began to slide free of its axis, first sideways, then tilting, then spinning. The wheels lost purchase on the road’s shoulder, loose and shifting from the heavy rains. The ground fell out from below them, crumbling down the hill. And they followed it._

Claire pressed her fingers into the dirt and grasped another bit of treasure.

* * *

 

**Epilogue**

 

**Fraser’s Ridge**

**September 1780**

Claire shuffled over in the dirt, careful to keep the burlap sack beneath her knees. The sun was already filtering through the aspens lining the ridge near the garden, so much lower than just a few weeks prior. September was a wild card, promising summer sun and winter frost and everything in between.

The summer vegetables were nearly all harvested and she’d put in winter roots to push into the start of winter. The late summer carrots were getting large and needed gathering.

“Mandy! Come here! I want to show you something. But mind your feet - don’t step on the rows!”

Mandy dropped the sticks she was gathering and ran between the rows to her grandmother. “What is it?”, she asked with great anticipation.

“Do you see these carrots here? I’ve loosened the soil and I want you to get a good hold of them and give them a solid tug to pull them out.”

Mandy’s mood deflated a little at the mundane request, but she couldn’t resist helping her grandmother harvest from the garden. There were few chores on the ridge she was suited for at her age and she loved playing assistant to her grandmother. She squatted and tugged, grunting before the carrots popped loose from the soil, sending her flopping backward.

“They’re purple! Purple carrots!”

“Aren’t they wonderful? And there are more colors hiding under the soil. I’ll dig and you stack them in the basket so we can clean them up in the stream.”

Claire and Mandy harvested their rainbow of carrots as the sun dropped lower into the trees, cooling the air and bringing out swarming gnats. When the last carrot had been dug up, Claire rose with a groan, her knees and hips popping. She stretched her arms above her head, rolling her neck and arching her spine. As much as she loved gardening, her body appreciated it less and less each year.  She walked to the end of the row and found an empty basket.

A few feet beyond, propped against the edge of the fence, were the carrots. They were lined up by shades - purple, orange, yellow. Then by size - largest to smallest. Mandy was lying on her belly, head propped up on her hands, feet kicking lazily in the air.

“What is this, darling?”

“They’re families.” She pointed to each, the fathers and mothers and children, and every one - all 34 of them - had names.

Claire crouched down next to her and watched her granddaughter talking softly to them, telling the carrots their chores for the day, what they would eat for lunch, and what the children would do in their play time. 

She remembered herself, a small child, on her belly on a rug. An animal’s paw before her. No, a piano leg carved like a lion’s paw. And tiny rocks lined up. Her rock families. Her memories dropped from her tongue in whispers, too quiet for Mandy to hear. “I named my rocks, too.”

She pressed her hand to Mandy’s curls, careful not to shake loose the soil caked to her palms. “Shall we give them a bath?”

They gathered up the carrots and soaked them in the stream, scrubbing their own hands vigorously in the icy water, digging dirt out from under their nails, and drying their hands on Claire’s skirts. Claire put Mandy’s cold hands between her own and blew warm air onto them.

“Will the carrots mind if we eat them?”

“No,” Mandy replied decisively. “They like it. They think it tickles.”

“Oh, good.”

Claire hung the basket from her arm and she strode with Mandy, hand in hand, back to the house, light spilling from the windows into the deep blue night of early evening. Mandy dropped her grandmother’s hand and sprinted to her mother who was crouching on the porch, arms opened wide. She ran into them and Claire could hear snippets of the tale of the purple carrot harvest spilling from her mouth faster than Bree could interpret.

Claire set the basket on the ground and tilted her head back. The night sky shimmered with stars, pressing their distant light against the memories of daylight. She felt the air behind her still as the warmth of his body filled the space between them. Jamie drew his arms around her and she let herself fall into him with a sigh.

* * *

 


End file.
